


my heart is playing hide and seek (wait and count to four)

by ghostbythesea



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesiac Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves Lives, David "Dave" Katz Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Incest, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Road Trips, Schizophrenia, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Telekinetic Klaus Hargreeves, Temporary Amnesia, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25953280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbythesea/pseuds/ghostbythesea
Summary: Klaus Hargreeves — painter, war veteran, schizophrenic.He’s not exactly normal, but he likes to pretend that he is.(Klaus Hargreeves — the Séance, child superhero, addict — lands in 1966.He immediately gets hit by a car.)
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Ben Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Raymond Chestnut/Allison Hargreeves
Comments: 220
Kudos: 729





	1. maybe another day you’ll wanna feel another way

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from _Mary_ by Big Thief, because of course it is. I hope you enjoy!! If you see anything that seems incorrect/that you think should be tagged, let me know, and I’ll correct it.
> 
> SONG REC: _Something On Your Mind_ by Karen Dalton
> 
> WARNINGS: schizophrenia discussion, mentions of addiction, implied homophobia

Klaus woke with the sunrise, his boyfriend’s strong arm wrapped around his waist and his face buried in his shoulder, their legs tangled together under the bedsheets. There was a woman sobbing in the corner, clothes and hair wet with seawater, but she was a familiar hallucination. The coast, with fewer distractions and stressors than Dallas and Vietnam, had been good for his schizophrenia, although he still needed his medication.

Gently untangling himself from Dave, he pressed a kiss against his sleeping partner’s brow, slipping out of bed and stretching out his tense shoulders, twisting his back so that his spine popped with a loud crack. His lower back ached pleasantly from their nighttime activities, and he sneezed reflexively at the sunlight coming in through the window, squeezing his eyes shut and smothering the noise with his elbow.

Padding out of their bedroom, socks softening his footsteps on the hardwood flooring, he trailed his fingers along the hallway wall, brushing past the paintings and framed photographs hanging. A portrait of the beach he’d painted himself, a picture of their regiment, a photo of Dave standing with his grandmother before she’d passed away. There was a pair of matching photos of them in their uniforms, hanging side by side on the wall. In a wooden frame was a photograph of Klaus sitting in a general purpose vehicle, a cigarette between his fingertips and a coy smile playing on his lips.

In the bathroom down the hall, he opened up the medicine cabinet, and grabbed the little bottle of pills that his psychiatrist had prescribed him. Shaking two into his hand, he gathered some spit in his mouth before putting them on his tongue and swallowing them. He took a piss, and washed his hands, shaking the water from them instead of drying them on the towel hanging by the sink, and headed straight for the staircase that would lead downstairs.

In the kitchen, he grabbed the measuring cup, setting it down on the counter with a clink. He pulled out the baking powder and flour and eggs, and the cornstarch and sugar, and set to work mixing it with the same practiced hand he always did. Cooking was one of the few things that had stuck with him after the accident, and it was nice. It was something soothing to do while the waited for the sound of crying faded in the background, for the corpses on the edge of his vision to disappear like the medication always made them.

A little girl at the counter with sunken eyes and bile at the corner of her mouth waved shyly, and he waved back. He knew she’d be gone soon enough. Dave never made fun of him for his condition, and he never made him feel like he wasn’t an adult. His short stint at the hospital after the hit and run had been stifling, the nurses and doctors treating him with a sickening mixture of curiosity and condescension.

He didn’t know why the hallucinations were always corpses. The doctors had told him that schizophrenia manifests itself differently between patients, but it felt cruel for his mind to make him see people in various states of mutilation every day if he didn’t take his meds. At least he didn’t have paranoia, and he responded well to the medication they gave him, despite the pills giving him nausea so severe that he could rarely eat, and leaving him too tired to do much more than paint, sleep, and spend time with Dave.

Klaus was happy with their vegetable garden, and with their little farmhouse, and Dave’s mother, who visited weekly with books she thought that they’d like, and cared about Klaus like a second son. His paintings sold well, and there were always fragrant flowers in vases and pots on every flat surface of the house. They collected kitschy mugs that cluttered their cupboards, drank cheap wine, and slow danced together in the early hours of the morning sometimes, when the nightmares would keep them both up. What they had was _love_ , in every sense of the word, and Klaus could go the rest of his life without remembering his past if he could spend it with Dave.

A pair of hands settled on his waist, and he startled, before leaning into the familiar touch. Chin resting on his shoulder, Dave cradled him close to his chest, blonde curls and stubble tickling Klaus’ cheek. They swayed together, and Klaus couldn’t help but grin so widely his cheeks hurt.

“You’re up early,” Dave said warmly.

“I thought I’d make us breakfast,” Klaus told him, gesturing towards the sizzling griddle with his spatula.

“Groovy,” Dave croaked, nuzzling his throat, and Klaus laughed. He could feel Dave’s smile against his skin. “Should I make us some coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Klaus sighed.

“Alright.” Dave reluctantly pulled away, grabbing the coffee pot. He put the grounds in, poured in some water, and left it resting on the counter. When he’d set it up, he leaned against the counter, watching as Klaus poured batter on the griddle with warm blue eyes.

He watched him finish, and when the pancakes were done, golden brown and soft, they moved to the dining table. Klaus set the plate in front of Dave (three for him, one for Klaus), sitting down across from him with his own pancakes, and Dave reached out with his socked foot to touch Klaus’ ankle with his toes. Smile widening, Klaus gently kicked him back, smearing butter onto his own pancakes before drowning them with syrup.

Dave wrinkled his nose at the sight. “I don’t get how you can stand that much sugar on... _anything_ , really.”

“I like my food as sweet as I am,” Klaus said coyly.

When Dave poured them coffee, he put creamer into his own polka dot mug, and grabbed four cubes from the sugar bowl before plunking them in Klaus’ mug, with its bright green parrot. “After a certain point, it’s not really coffee anymore.”

“Dave,” Klaus said dryly, “you like _hard boiled eggs_.”

“Because they’re good,” Dave grunted through a mouthful of pancake.

They bickered playfully, and finished their breakfast. Klaus stood up, stretching his shoulders again with a yawn, and although his stomach was churning, pancake wasn't going to be coming back up anytime soon. Dave was the one to pull him into a kiss, and Klaus nipped his bottom lip, wrapping his arms around Dave’s neck. “Let’s sit down,” he suggested.

Together, they moved to the living room. Dave settled on the couch, and Klaus sat down next to him, throwing his legs over Dave’s lap. His partner rubbed his knees, and Klaus leaned in to kiss him, framing his face with his hands. “Hello,” he breathed, and Dave grinned, grasping his waist.

“Hello,” Dave replied coyly.

Slipping one of his legs underneath himself, Klaus leveraged himself upwards so that he was settled in Dave’s lap, straddling his hips on the couch. Dave’s eyes danced over him, his gaze hungry and his pupils blown out, and Klaus smirked. ”You can touch me too, you know,” Klaus teased, grinding down.

Dave squeezed his ass. “Oh, I know.”

A hand rucked up his shirt, and—

There was a knock at the door, loud and demanding. Klaus jolted, and Dave startled underneath him, quickly retracting his hand. Hurrying to stand and move away from him, Klaus smoothed out the creases in his shirt, and adjusted himself in his pants so that he looked relatively presentable, Dave stood, too, nodding towards the door with a puzzled expression. Klaus shrugged helplessly, because they hadn’t been expecting any visitors, and Dave’s mother usually let them know if she was planning on visiting them.

Whoever it was rapped their knuckles on the door again, knocks loud and rapid.

“You should probably get it,” Dave suggested quietly, face flushed bright red.

Klaus grinned, reaching forwards to gently grab Dave’s hard-on through his pants. “You should probably go take a cold shower,” Klaus retorted. Dave rolled his eyes theatrically, and patted Klaus ass as he left the room, heading towards the stairs that would lead upstairs to the bathroom.

Checking himself in the window a final time, for lack of any mirrors in the sitting room, he took a deep breath. It was probably just Mr Fitzpatrick again, he told himself, needing help with his chickens, or getting something down from his attic, or some other chore that he was too old to do anymore. Or maybe it would be Mrs Lovell, come to complain about the overgrown shrubs at the edge of their property.

When he opened the door, however, he hadn’t predicted to find a teenager standing outside, wearing what appeared to be a school uniform. He had his hand tucked into his jacket pockets, hair neatly slicked back, looking more professional than most adults could even pull off, and as he looked at Klaus, his brow furrowed deeper. “You look different,” the boy said.

“Uh,” Klaus choked out, “do I know you? Where are your parents?”

“Klaus, I assure you that this isn’t nearly as funny as you think it is,” the boy scoffed. He took a step forwards, like he was going to walk straight through him, even though he was blocking the doorway, and—

The boy disappeared in a flash of blue light. Klaus blinked, looking out across the yard, but he was gone, like he hadn’t been there at all. An instant later, there was a whooshing noise behind him, and when he jerked around to find the boy rummaging around in his kitchen, he shrieked, pressing a hand against his chest. His pulse raced, and blackness swelled at the edge of his vision, because honestly, _what the fuck?_

“You, you,” Klaus stuttered out, turning around to look at his doorway before turning back to find the boy making himself coffee, in his kitchen, “you just...”

“I teleported,” the boy said blandly. Like he should’ve already known that he could casually do something that should have been physically impossible. “You missed us saving the world again by seven years. The rest of us thought that you were dead, but the Commission—“

“Wait,” Klaus interrupted, shutting the door behind him perhaps a bit too loudly, and the resulting bang made him flinch. He didn’t do well with loud noises anymore, not since the gunfire and explosions and time spent hiding in trenches back when he served in Vietnam. “Saving the world? The Commission?”

“Did all the drugs give you brain damage?” He snarked, and Klaus couldn’t help but wonder how such a small child could have so much vitriol. Especially considering that the boy seemed to know him. And could teleport.

“I don’t know,” Klaus said breathily, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Everything was just too much to process. He’d never been much of a drinker, and he certainly didn’t take drugs harder than pot and his meds, but the accident had certainly given him brain damage, enough that he couldn’t remember most of his life. He couldn’t even remember his own birthday.

“We stopped the apocalypse, remember?” The boy said condescendingly, like he was speaking to a toddler.

“Was I, uh,” considering the almost deranged look in the boy’s eyes, and his weird super powers, he wanted to phrase it delicately, but there really was no way to say it in a way that was respectful, “part of a doomsday cult?“

The boy’s expression turned from anger to confusion. “No,” the boy answered quickly, seemingly startled by the question. But he was talking about apocalypses and saving the world, definitely the sort of thing doomsday cultists would talk about, even if with the boy’s teleportation, he would almost be inclined to listen to him. “Klaus, I’m being serious here.”

“You keep talking at me, like you know me,” Klaus said, feeling increasing frustrated, “but I don’t remember you.”

That made the boy pause.

The boy quietly grabbed a mug from the cupboard above, setting it down onto the counter in front of him. He grabbed the coffee pot, and, pouring it into the mug, he then took a sip of it. When his nose wrinkled, he dumped the rest of it in the sink, taking another look around the kitchen.

“Where do you keep your alcohol?” He asked, irritation in his voice.

“You’re _thirteen_ ,” Klaus spluttered incredulously.

“I’m a fifty-eight year old man trapped in a teenaged body,” the boy hissed, and yeah, Klaus could almost believe him. He acted more like a crotchety old man than a child, although puberty could make a kid just as angry.

“It’s, um,” Klaus said, gesturing vaguely towards the pantry door.

“What happened to you?” The boy asked sharply, turning around to dig through his pantry. When he found one of the cheaper wines, he scrunched up his nose, but took it anyways. “Start at the beginning.”

“I was hit by a car,” Klaus said, and the boy rolled his eyes.

“Same thing happened to Vanya. Same result.”

“Who’s Vanya?” Klaus asked miserably as he watched a thirteen year old kid with super powers open a bottle of wine in his kitchen uninvited, removing the cork with his hand. He wished more than anything that he could go and join Dave in the shower he could hear from downstairs, but that wasn’t possible. He just needed to endure the conversation, and the boy would eventually leave. Probably.

“Our sister,” the boy answered, taking a swig of wine directly from the bottle without even using a glass.

_Our_ sister?

“Are you my brother?” Klaus asked, incredulous.

“Yes, dumbass,” the boy said, bristling.

His family was weird. Definitely too weird, even by his own standards. It was probably the right decision, giving up on searching for answers to his past, because so far, he’d met his brother with teleportation powers who was also supposedly almost sixty years old, and learned about a sister who’d _also_ gotten hit by a car and developed amnesia.

If it weren’t for the teleportation, he probably wouldn’t have believed any of it, but strangely, it made everything else more reasonable in comparison. Unless his meds weren’t working, in which case—

“Oh,” Klaus breathed, “this isn’t real.”

The boy’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I need my meds,” Klaus said, turning around to head towards the stairs. He’d taken them recently, but he figured that if he took another dose, maybe it would work. The boy teleported in front of him, blocking his path and still holding the wine bottle, and Klaus groaned in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut. “This isn’t real, and you’re not, either.”

When he stepped forwards, however, the boy’s body was definitely a solid mass. “I can assure you,” the boy said dryly, “I’m perfectly real. What meds?”

“ _Antipsychotics_ ,” Klaus answered, trying to side step the boy. He failed. “Just let me go!”

“What do you take them for?” The boy asked, continuing to block him.

“Schizophrenia! Sue me!”

The boy’s eyebrows raised, his mouth widening into an ‘o’ shape of realization, and Klaus temporarily stopped fighting against him, stepping backwards slightly down the staircase. “For the ghosts,” he said.

“Hallucinations,” Klaus corrected automatically.

Reaching up, the boy yanked up his sleeve. The umbrella tattoo was a perfect match for the one on Klaus’ own wrist, yet another piece of his past that he couldn’t remember. Klaus felt his breath catch in his throat, his pulse quickening, and fuck, he wanted Dave to be with him. He needed to calm himself down. “Klaus,” he said stiffly, “they’re ghosts.”

“No, they’re not.”

“My power is teleportation,” the boy said. He moved a few steps up the staircase in another burst of vibrant blue light. Klaus’ head was starting to seriously hurt. “Yours is seeing the dead.”

“Well,” Klaus said, throwing up his hands, “even if you’re telling me the truth, maybe I don’t want to see them! Who the fuck would want to see corpses following them around everywhere they go, huh? Would _you_ , asshole?”

The boy bristled, face reddening. He looked like he was going to lash out, but he took a deep breath, and his shoulders slumped in resignation. “I’ll be back,” he muttered angrily, turning around, and he disappeared again. Klaus waited one second, and then another, but the boy was gone.

Sighing shakily, he dropped to his knees on the staircase, holding his head in his hands. There weren’t any other ghosts— _hallucinations_ around him, so either his teleporting brother trapped in a child’s body actually came to find him, or it was a strange, isolated incident. Or maybe he’d slipped, hit his head on something, and was currently unconscious, and he would wake up on the floor or in the hospital, only to find out it was just a dream.

He needed something for his massive headache.

Standing up, he grabbed a glass, and filled it up with tap water. Taking a long drink, he closed his eyes, supporting himself on the counter, and took a deep breath. He heard the shower upstairs turn off, and listened as Dave rustled around in the bathroom before opening the door.

Klaus watched home come downstairs, hair darkened with water and his expression one of concern, and when he opened his arms, Dave walked into them and wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him close. “I heard arguing,” he said tentatively, “but I figured you had it handled. Should I have come and kicked him out?”

Well, if Dave heard it, too, then that meant it was real. He squeezed his eyes shut again, his breathing shallow. “No. It was just some teleporting thirteen year old psychopath claiming to be my brother, who I helped stop the apocalypse with.”

“Actually?” Dave asked. He knew Klaus could be imaginative.

“I wish that I could say no.”

“That’s, uh,” Dave stuttered, “ _teleporting_ , Klaus? That’s, well...”

Klaus smiled a little at his apprehension. “Fucking _weird_. I know.”

“You took your meds this morning, yeah?” Dave asked, leaning back to examine his face.

“Yes,” Klaus sighed.

“Was there anything else strange about him?”

“He had my tattoo,” Klaus answered, “the umbrella one. And he claimed that I have ghost powers, or some shit like that.”

Dave snorted, kissing behind his ear. “If anyone could have super powers, it would be you. Do you believe him?”

Klaus shrugged. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. He said he’ll be back, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Dave said, stroking a hand over his back. “Are you tired?”

Klaus nodded again.

“Let’s go take a nap, then.”

Dave helped him to his feet, and he leaned against him, feeling grateful that he had him by his side. People usually liked Klaus, but nobody could really put up with him for very long. Between his fucked up brain chemistry and what could broadly be defined as _personality quirks_ , most people found him too much to handle for very long. But Dave listened, and cared, and believed him whenever he said some dumb thing that anyone else would think was made up. Most people had functioning bullshit radars, but Dave was so genuinely _good_ and _sensitive_ that he always trusted first, asked questions later.

“Dave,” Klaus said as he climbed into bed. Dave closed the curtains so that the midday sun wouldn’t keep him up, then turned on the lamp at their bedside, because Klaus could never sleep in complete darkness. “Even if it turns out that I’m some sort of psychic, or a medium, or just completely off my rockers, you’ll still love me, right?”

Dave smiled, his eyes twinkling as he climbed into bed next to him. They faced each other, laying on their sides, and Dave grabbed his hands, holding them across their pillow and rubbing his tattooed palms. “Of course I would.”

Klaus sniffled, chest tightening as his eyelids drooped. “Good. Because I don’t want to have to fake a pregnancy to trap you here.”

Laughing, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges, Dave pressed a kiss against his knuckles. Klaus preened at the attention, moving his feet forwards so that their legs tangled together. “You won’t need to. I’ll stay forever, if you’ll let me.”

“Shut up,” Klaus said wetly, “you’re gonna’ make me cry.”

Dave bumped his forehead against his. “We wouldn’t want that.”

Klaus chuckled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  
  



	2. there was something in the air that night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison has breakfast with Ray, and Five calls a family meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Allison perspective chapter.
> 
> SONG REC: _Fernando_ by ABBA
> 
> WARNINGS: mentions of racism, mentions of drug abuse

Klaus was alive.

They’d all thought each other were dead when they landed in the past alone, in different times. Thanks to Five’s detective work, they’d found one another ( _and Ben, too, they’d laughed and cried and hugged when Ben had stepped into the room_ —) again. They’d tearfully reunited, finally in the same room again after so many years apart, but embarrassingly, it’d been Ben who asked where Klaus was. None of them had even noticed Klaus was gone until he’d pointed it out.

Five told them that there had only been five flashes of light in that alleyway that Elliott recorded.

First Ben, then Allison and Luther, shortly followed by Diego and Vanya.

Klaus had never arrived.

Five assured them that he could’ve landed somewhere _after_ them, and that so long as they stopped the apocalypse, he could turn up anytime afterwards. Even if they were worried, they believed him. Because Klaus was impenetrable, the annoying little brother that they couldn’t make leave even if they wanted to, and even if they’d spent so many years ignoring him and pushing him away, they still loved him. There hadn’t been seven of them since Five disappeared, and with Five and Ben back in their lives, it was unfair that Klaus was suddenly gone.

But then Ben had gotten drunk for the first time, sitting in Allison’s kitchen, and he’d confessed that he was worried that if Klaus was dead, then he wouldn’t be able to see him. Klaus had been what kept him sane for those thirteen years he was dead. As he talked about how Klaus could never have a moment alone without the drugs, how his power wasn’t something that could be turned off, Allison had started crying. _Klaus was a light in the darkness_ , he explained. A final connection to the land of the living, a two-way door.

Even if he couldn’t see him, Ben confessed, he still talked to Klaus, sometimes. Just to make sure that if he was somehow dead, and a ghost, that he wasn’t alone. People gave him weird looks for it, talking to nothing all day, but it was important to him that Klaus knew he hadn’t forgotten about him.

They’d talked with Klaus through their tears, unsure if he was even there, but it had felt better than doing nothing.

But then, after the nuclear doomsday had been successfully averted and they’d been helped by the Commission to get home, Five had apparently asked them to find Klaus, wherever he was in the time-stream. They’d tracked him down to March 20th, 1970, and said that it was the stablest place they could remove him from. Klaus was alive, and they could get him back.

When Five told them, they cried together again, because for the first time in seventeen years, they would be whole again.

“This is _amazing_ ,” Ray said, looking around the diner.

Just seeing the elation on Ray’s face, looking around a place where he wouldn’t have been allowed just a decade before, made it worth everything they’d gone through. Because though everyone can strive to make changes in the world, not everybody can live to see the change happen. And Ray was getting to skip ahead almost sixty years in progress. There was always progress to be made, and she was certain that he would still be an activist in the future, but for now, he was fine with just traveling with Allison and enjoying the ride.

In the end, their detour would probably be for the best. The 60s were still culturally relevant, but Ray would be able to acclimate to the repealing of segregation laws and increased representation easier than if he was simply thrown into the distant future. And besides, it was nice to be able to enjoy her siblings’ company without fearing that the world would end. The others had gone to find their own breakfast elsewhere, but Allison had wanted to spend time with her husband.

“The breakfast,” Allison said smugly, gesturing towards his scrambled eggs and toast, “or the fact that the diner isn’t segregated?”

“The diner!” Ray exclaimed, smiling brightly at her. “The,” he leaned forwards, glancing around theatrically as he pretended to check if anyone was listening to their conversation, “time travel. _Everything_ , really. How does it even work?”

“You’d have to ask a Five on that one,” Allison said, slicing into her waffles.

“It’s incredible that this morning was six years ago,” Ray sighed, leaning back into his chair. He met everything with passionate curiosity, and he enjoyed reading and learning just as much Ben did— does. Her brother and husband had gotten along from pretty much the moment they met, thankfully. Ben had always been the easiest to get along with. “ _Six years ago_ , Allison.”

“And by tonight, it will have been fifty-six years ago,” Allison reminded him.

“It’s too bad,” Ray mused, looking out the window. “We’re closer to the coast now than I’ve been in years. We could’ve gone to the beach today.”

“We didn’t even rent a hotel room,” Allison sighed, and Ray slowly nodded his head in agreement, “so Five’s not planning on having us here for long. And he said to stay in town, so he could find us easier once he has Klaus.”

“So your fifth brother,” Ray started, “what’s he like?”

“Well, he’s always been the middle child,” Allison said, crossing her ankles underneath the table, “even though we were all the exact same age. Although I suppose he’s the oldest now, at like, thirty-three.”

“And he’s the,” he made a vague gesture with his hands, “ghost one, yeah?”

“He doesn’t like it,” Allison said, shrugging. It’d only been when Ben told them that Klaus’ powers couldn’t be shut off that she finally understood why he was so desperate to smother it with the drugs. She couldn’t imagine having to see ghosts every second of every day. “He can be insensitive sometimes, but he’s compassionate. And he likes making us laugh.”

“Did you get along?” Ray asked, leaning on his hand.

“When we were kids.” She could remember trips to Griddy’s doughnuts, and how Klaus would hound and harass passers-by until they had enough money to pay for it. Makeover sessions in her bedroom, talking about boys and fame, and helping Klaus when he was puking in the bathroom after crawling in through his window in the early hours of the morning. “After we all left home, I moved to Los Angeles, and he only called when he needed money for drugs, or for us to pay his bail. I would pay for his rehab, sometimes.”

“That must’ve been hard,” Ray said empathetically.

“We were all so caught up in our own problems that we never could think about each other’s.” They’d tried to get better since they stopped the first apocalypse, seeing as it was caused by Vanya’s feelings of isolation. “He didn’t care that what he was doing hurt us, because we didn’t care enough to find out what was hurting him.”

The bell to the diner door rang. Allison ignored it.

“It’s a difficult thing,” Ray agreed. “My cousin—”

“Hurry up and finish your breakfast,” a familiar voice commanded. When Allison looked behind her, Five was standing next to their booth, a tired expression on his face. “Family meeting. I’ve rented us some rooms in a motel, the one next to that one ice cream parlor we saw.”

He tossed them a set of keys.

“Five,” Allison exclaimed, “what happened?”

“I’ll explain at the meeting,” Five assured them, promptly leaving.

“I take it things didn’t go as planned?” Ray asked, reaching out to rub her hand.

Allison sighed. “They rarely do.”

Ray paid their bill, and they walked hand in hand towards the motel Five had directed them to. The sun was shining through a thin blanket of grey clouds, and the rain from earlier in the morning had resulted in the ground being wet, and a rainbow forming on the horizon.

“We might get to go to the beach after all,” Ray joked, trying to keep the mood light. She smiled at him, leaning onto his shoulder. “We’d have to get new swimwear. I don’t think we packed the ones that we had at home.”

“I think you’d love my house in Los Angeles,” Allison agreed. When she’d divorced her ex-husband, Patrick, they had several properties that’d gotten split between them. She’d kept the one on the coast, while he took Claire to live with him in one of the wealthy neighborhoods in the town over. “When we get home, I’ll take you to the beach with Claire.”

“I’m excited to meet her.”

Allison was thankful that, when she explained her past divorce to him, he’d been accepting that she’d been married and had a child before. She knew that Ray would make a wonderful stepfather to her. “I think she’ll like you, Ray.”

They got to the motel, and Luther was standing outside, arms awkwardly folded over his chest and a stern expression on his face that softened when he saw her. Even if what they had before was over, they still cared about one another, and their relationship was definitely healthier for them. “Allison,” he greeted warmly, then nodded at her husband, “Ray.”

“Why’re we having a family meeting?” Allison asked, reaching out to gently grab his arm.

“I wish that I could tell you,” Luther said helplessly. “Klaus wasn’t with him.”

That was probably a bad sign. Nothing ever seemed to go right for their family, but just for once, she wished that they could have something without having to stop an apocalypse or fight people to do it. Something told her that there would be hoops they needed to jump through before they could get their brother back.

The thought flashed in her mind that maybe he didn’t _want_ to leave, but she dismissed it as soon as she thought it. Klaus wouldn’t just leave them, especially if he was told Ben was alive. According to Ben, they’d gotten close during the thirteen years they’d spent stuck together. No, she told herself, Klaus would be as eager to leave as they were. He wouldn’t willingly stay behind while the rest of them went home.

“Where are we regrouping?” Allison asked, glancing around.

“Five’s room,” Luther answered. “He rented the place out for a week. We’re probably going to be here for awhile.”

Allison sent a silent prayer to whatever higher power might be listening that they wouldn’t have to stop a third apocalypse. After everything they’d gone through, it wouldn’t be fair to them if they had to fight against another doomsday, especially when they were so certain that their problems were over.

“You’re the last ones here,” Luther continued, turning around with a little beckoning gesture.

They followed him farther into the motel, past a bored looking man at the front desk, and towards a hallway that led around to the back of the motel. The door they stopped at was closed, with a _‘Do Not Disturb’_ sign hanging on the doorknob, but before Luther could knock at the door, it opened up to reveal Five, looking more exhausted than he’d ever been.

For him, it’d been a long two weeks. Two weeks, to apocalypses.

Five looked between them, and sighed stepping aside. “Come on inside.”

As Luther had said, their family was gathered in the small hotel room that Five had rented out for himself, sitting on the bed or in chairs around the room. Allison took a seat on the couch, and Ray sat down on the couch’s arm next to her, reaching down to gently rub her shoulder.

Shutting the door behind them and locking it with an audible click, Five shoved one hand into his pocket, and combed the other roughly through his hair. “He didn’t remember me,” he said bluntly, “or the apocalypse.”

“Who?” Luther blurted. “Klaus?”

“Of course Klaus, you dumbass,” Five snapped.

“What happened?” Vanya asked softly, rubbing her arms.

“Exactly what happened to you,” Five said, shaking his head in tired exasperation. Allison could remember how confused Vanya had been before, although she’d been happy to have a family, but how easily she’d accepted them. Clearly, Klaus hadn’t had quite the same reaction. “Hit by a car, and lost his memories. What were the odds it would happen to two out of seven of us?”

“So how did he react?” Diego croaked.

“He thought I was a hallucination,” Five scoffed.

“So, what,” Allison said, “he doesn’t know he has powers?”

“He takes a prescription medication for his ‘ _schizophrenia_ ,’” Five said, putting finger quotations around the words. “But, no.”

Allison remembered what Ben had said, about how the drugs made the ghosts stop, and wondered what they could’ve done for them if they’d known. Found something that didn’t make him high to stop it, or get him the therapy he’d needed. Not for the first time, she wished they’d asked him about what he was feeling, instead simply assuming that he just wanted attention.

“Is he happy?” Ben asked quietly.

“He looked like a relatively stable adult. More subdued. He’s been taking care of himself better than I think he’s ever tried to.”

“Maybe it’s for the best, then,” Elliott piped up, from where he’d been silent. The strange man that Five, Luther, and Diego had seemed to grow attached to had been allowed to come with them. After all, he’d been a recluse for three years, and Five said his absence wouldn’t affect the time stream too severely. “If he’s happy here, then why would you make him leave?”

“He needs his family,” Diego protested, looking at the man with an expression of betrayal.

“We should go try talking to him again,” Vanya suggested. “Later today.”

“No,” Five said, shaking his head. He shrugged off his uniform jacket, hanging it on a coat rack by the door. “I haven’t slept properly in two weeks, and these last few days have been rough for all of us. We’ll try talking to him again tomorrow, when we’ve all properly rested.”

“So, what,” Diego scoffed, standing up, “we just leave him there?”

“He’s fine without us, Diego,” Five insisted. “Besides, he doesn’t remember us, and from what he said, I don’t think he _wants_ to.”

Diego recoiled like he’d been slapped in the face.

Ben rose to his feet.

“Ben, wait,” Allison protested, standing up and following him as he left the room. Nobody followed them out. Ben marched on, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, and she felt her heart leap into her throat. They left the motel, and she noticed that it’d started to rain again. “Ben, please, calm down, and come back to the room. It’ll be fine, Vanya—”

“We were together for thirteen years, Allison,” Ben shouted, turning around to face her in the parking lot. His face was reddened with anger, tears brimming in his eyes. “I might be alive again, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t worried about him every fucking day he’s been gone.”

“We’re all worried about him,” Allison said, stepping forwards to grab Ben’s hand. He yanked it away, turning around to continue walking. “Ben, we care about him. You aren’t alone, now.”

“And what have you done for him?” Ben asked harshly.

“I paid for his rehab,” Allison said. “I paid his bail, every time he asked.”

“To tell yourself you were doing something,” he spat.

That stung. “Ben, we tried—”

“You could’ve tried harder.” Ben insisted. “You could’ve listened after my funeral. When he tried to tell you that I was there.”

Ben had told them that it’d been the first time that Klaus had been happy to use his powers. He’d brought Ben back the best he could, and had been proud to show them that he was still with them, that they hadn’t failed their brother completely. And they’d brushed it off as an insensitive joke at their expense, just Klaus trying to get attention like Klaus always did, and Klaus had been the first to leave home, barely a month afterwards.  


Vanya had written in her book that Ben was the only thing keeping them together. Maybe if they’d known he was there, they all would’ve stayed together.

“Ben, please,” she said gently, feeling tears prickle at her own eyes, “we’ve been through this. It was a mistake. We should’ve listened, and it won’t make up for the past, but we’re trying to be better, now.”

Ben slowed, and turned around again. His expression softened, and he rubbed tears from his face. “None of you were close to him like I was. I’m going to talk to him now, regardless of what Five said.”

“It’s a forty minute walk without Five’s powers,” Allison reminded him. Ben nodded. “Do you want company?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, first season, I didn’t like Allison very much. In the second season, though, she was my third favorite (after Klaus and Diego, of course), not to mention that her wardrobe was iconic. Also, I know it’s been confirmed that Ray isn’t coming back, but my fanfic, my rules. He’s included. Can we get more Allison-centric fanfics, please?


	3. so you gave the days of your life to the church of your dead daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison and Ben pay Klaus a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SONG REC: _Calvary Baptist_ by Celeste Krishna & The Monarchs
> 
> WARNINGS: implied/referenced homophobia

_A blue portal opens up, and Ben collapses through it._

_The impact is unexpected, as he lands flat on his back, and the wind is knocked out of him as he struggles to get his bearings. Above him, the portal closes, and all he can do his wheeze as he struggles to pull himself back together again. As he pushes himself up (it’s unfamiliar, the discomfort in his chest, and inside of him the Horror is_ _squirming inside of him_ , _a tangled knot in his stomach_ _—), he looks around, searching for Klaus, but he isn’t there._

_“Klaus?” Ben calls out, looking around the alleyway. Maybe he just landed somewhere else, but he can’t even feel his pull anymore, and the possibility that Klaus could be gone terrifies him. “Klaus, where are you?”_

_A man looks at him strangely as he passes by, averting his gaze when their eyes meet. His chest and back still ache, his head throbbing from the landing, and his next realization strikes him abruptly as he feels the wind caress his face, the sunlight warm against his skin._

_He could see him._

They walked in the rain, and Ben felt the tightness in his chest gradually loosen up, until he was laughing at Allison’s anecdotes and stories about Ray, and her acting career, and even Claire, back home. She had an arm casually slung over his shoulder, because he wasn’t actually that much taller than her, and he couldn’t get enough of his siblings’ touch, now that he had them back. He’d told her plenty about his time with Klaus, but she hadn’t told him that much about her own lives, both in the original timeline, and in the new one.

Ben had spent so long without feeling anything that the brush of cold coastal wind against his skin and rain misting his face was like a breath of fresh air, even three years after he’d first been dumped into the alleyway. He doubted he would ever actually get accustomed to it. The smells, the feelings, the tastes. He’d needed to relearn how everything felt, how to walk properly and actually sleep, and without his siblings, it’d been a difficult process. Still, he’d never forget to appreciate the world around him, especially after being dead for so long.

He had, however, spent so long in the snow his first winter that he’d almost lost his fingers to frostbite. That hadn’t been a particularly fun first emergency room visit, even though he’d been in one with Klaus plenty of times.

Klaus, who he’d spent almost every day of thirteen years with, watching him poison himself. Klaus, who made him feel alive when it should’ve been impossible. Klaus, who he had protected and watched over, because Ben knew he wouldn’t care enough to keep himself safe otherwise, who’d gone and gotten into trouble the second that Ben wasn’t there to help him.

“This is the place,” Allison sighed.

“Are you sure?” Ben asked, turning towards his sister.

Allison squinted at him, lips quirking upwards. “I’m _pretty_ sure, Ben.”

They’d walked almost all the way out to the ocean, and the house was close enough that it would be just another couple more minutes of walking to reach the beach below. A fruit orchard was planted on one end of the property, and a dirt road led to a house that was mostly windows, the garden in front of it clearly meticulously cared for.

Five had said that Klaus seemed like a functioning adult, but Ben hadn’t quite believed him. After years of watching him struggle on the streets, it was hard to imagine Klaus being able to live in an actual house, although Five had told them that it was his permanent address. Swallowing nervously, he pushed through the front gate, and Allison followed behind him.

As they got closer, walking up a cobblestone path from the driveway to the front door, he took in the porch. Potted flowers and trees sat by the entrance, a mezuzah pinned to the doorframe, and he took in the scent of lavender and roses. There was an old, faded doormat below them, and Ben scuffed his shoes on it, trying to clean whatever dirt and water was stuck to them.

He pushed the doorbell before he could overthink it.

They stood awkwardly outside of the house, and after another minute, Allison sent him a confused glance. Ben shrugged helplessly. “Maybe he’s not home,” he suggested, turning back towards the entryway. If whatever Five had said upset him, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d left. Klaus had a tendency to run away from his problems.

“Should we break in?” Allison asked, only half joking. It would freak Klaus out if they came in unannounced, regardless of whether he remembered them or not, but if he wasn’t home, maybe they could learn something about him. “Or we could come back another time.”

Ben sighed. “Maybe we should go back to—”

He heard footsteps inside, and his throat tightened, the Horror shifting nervously inside of him. They’d come to a sort of understanding, but that didn’t mean that they were comfortable. He just hoped he wouldn’t end up with Klaus’ first impression of him being him puking on his shoes. Somebody cursed quietly as they fumbled with the locks on the door, but when the man opened it, looking at them with a bleary, confused expression on his face, it wasn’t Klaus.

“Hello,” the man greeted, voice hoarse like he’d just woken up, looking between them. Allison stiffened, and Ben felt his own posture straighten. A head of blonde curls, eyes bright blue and curious, he wore a grey cardigan over a wrinkled white button down, and beige slacks. “Is there anything you need?”

“Uh,” Ben started, turning to Allison for guidance and finding none, “is Klaus Hargreeves home?”

The man’s expression immediately hardened, then turned carefully neutral. “Are you with the thirteen year old?” He asked, looking suspiciously between them, then over their shoulders, like Five was hiding somewhere in the garden. Five hadn’t mentioned another man in the house, but it didn’t surprise Ben.

“We’re Klaus’ siblings,” Allison said, smiling up at him. His frown deepened. “Adopted.”

“Do you have any proof?” The man asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sorry if I don’t exactly believe you.”

Shit. They should’ve prepared more. “Not with us,” he admitted. “I’m Ben, and this is Allison, and you’re...”

“Dave,” the man filled in, and—  


_Dave?_

“David Katz?” Ben choked out.

Klaus’ deceased fling from Vietnam? The man he’d gotten sober for when he wouldn’t even do it for Ben before, who he’d spent hours quietly mourning in those final days before the apocalypse? He certainly looked enough like his descriptions of him had, the sharp jawline and blonde curls. But he’d thought he was dead, not to mention a continent away.

“Do we know each other?” Dave asked, not unkindly.

How Klaus could find the same man twice, without even remembering him, Ben didn’t think he’d ever truly know. Or maybe a Dave was the only thing he could remember. That would hurt.

“We’ve never met,” Ben said, “but—”

“Listen,” Dave sighed, leaning against the doorframe, “Klaus is sleeping upstairs. I don’t know why you’re trying to convince him you’re family, or that he has powers, but neither of us believe you.“

“Just hear us out,” Allison insisted as the door closed.

“Wait,” Ben said, shoving his leg into the doorway as it closed. Dave opened it up again like he was going to tell them to fuck off, but Ben jumped in to cut him off before he could speak. “Klaus is our family. We’re not here to hurt him. And I know you love him, too, and that’s why I’m asking you to put your trust in us.”

Dave’s eyes widened, and he threw open the door again. “We’re not— we’re just _friends_ , not— not whatever you think we are,” he stuttered out anxiously, the words stumbling over his tongue as he spoke, hand gripping the doorknob until his knuckles turned white. All the color had drained from his face, and he looked between them fearfully.

Ben frowned, because if they were living together, from what Klaus told him, they were obviously more than friends, but—

Oh. He’d forgotten the year they were in.

“It’s fine, really,” Ben hurried to assure him, “Klaus, he’s always been attracted to men. We don’t care.”

Dave’s expression softened from terror to wariness, although his posture didn’t relax.

“He used to borrow my skirts sometimes,” Allison added carefully. Klaus had never told her about Dave, but she was smart, and definitely the most perceptive of their family. She caught on quickly. “We’d do each others’ makeup, and he’d let me paint his nails. He broke his jaw, once, tripping down the stairs in our mom’s heels.”

Dave visibly tried to fight a smile, lips twitching up at the corners. The fondness in his eyes was easy to see. Shoulder slumping, he glanced between them again, expression pained, then stepped aside, unblocking the entrance. “I won’t wake him. But you can come inside.”

They’d already done better than Five did, and Ben reminded himself that he knew Klaus better than anyone else. If anyone was going to convince him that they were his siblings, then it was Ben. He was certain of it. They hadn’t spent the better part of thirteen years together for nothing.

They walked through the doorway, and Ben ignored the way that Allison stared at him in curiosity.

The furniture in the house was plain, but it looked lived in, and comfortable. Plants sat on every flat surface, the walls covered with paintings of landscapes and people and animals, and a glass wall exposed a back patio with a large swimming pool and a pair of lawn chairs. He wasn’t sure if the subdued, cozy aesthetic was reassuring, or demoralizing.

“Have a seat,” Dave invited awkwardly, gesturing towards the sitting room.

Ben sat in an armchair, while Allison perched on the edge of the couch. He sank into the furniture, and released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Dave seemed to steady himself, gnawing on his bottom lip, and Ben wondered if he’d picked the habit of chewing on his lips when he got anxious from Klaus. “Do either of you want anything? Coffee, tea?”

Ben shook his head. “No, thank you.” The Horror was turning nervously in his stomach, and he didn’t think he’d be able to keep it down. Being sick in Klaus’ living room would be mortifyingly embarrassing.

“We’re fine,” Allison agreed, smiling at him thinly.

Sitting down across from them, Dave folded his hands in his lap. “So you’re Klaus’ family, then?”

“Some of it,” Ben answered. “We’re staying in a motel. In town.”

Nodding, Dave glanced upstairs, towards where Klaus would be resting. Ben wished he could see him, but he knew that they’d have to take it slow if he they were to actually get through to him. He’d be relearning everything about their family from the ground up. “We’ve put missing person advertisements in the papers. Did you find us through them?”

“Not quite,” Allison said, grinning. “Our brother, the, ah, thirteen year old. He works for an organization with access to a lot of records, and they helped us track him down.”

Dave frowned. “Didn’t he say he’s fifty-eight?”

“He is,” Allison answered tentatively.

“Are you... government experiments, or something?” Dave asked warily, glancing between them. The expression he wore had shifted from suspicion to morbid curiosity, and he leaned forwards in his seat, fidgeting with the watch on his wrist. “Klaus didn’t have any public birth records or medical information available. And I can see that you have the same tattoo,” he said, gesturing towards Allison’s exposed wrist.

“Our father made us get them when we were twelve,” Ben explained. He reached up to touch his tattoo through his leather jacket, remembering sitting in that chair in the foyer, the needle pressing painfully against his skin as he tried not to cry. “It was a way of branding us.”

“I’m sorry,” Dave apologized. He seemed sincere.

Allison shrugged. “It was twenty... _well_. A long time ago.”

“Is Klaus in danger?” Dave asked wearily.

“We don’t think so,” Allison assured him. “We’re not exactly supposed to be here, but we’ve dealt with the people who are actively pursuing us.”

Dave huffed out a laugh. “Klaus said the— uh, the man was teleporting. Can he actually do that?”

“Yeah,” Ben sighed, “Five can teleport.”

Dave’s nose scrunched up. “Five?”

“The boy,” Allison explained sheepishly. It was always hard, telling people about their names. “Our father named us with numbers rather than names. I was Number Three, Ben was Number Six, and Klaus was Number Four.”

Dave’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. “What kind of parent names their kids after numbers?”

Allison shrugged. “We weren’t adopted by the government, but we were our father’s experiments. He wanted to make a team capable of preventing the end of the world, not that it worked out quite the way he’d planned.

“And he gave you your superpowers?” Dave asked, looking like he could be sick, his complexion pale and his lips pursed. He wrung his hands together, bouncing his knee as he glanced between them with what might’ve been pity. “Klaus wasn’t sure if he’d imagined that.”

Allison laughed. “No. We were born with them.”

“And what are yours?” Dave asked cautiously.

Allison glanced towards Ben. “I can alter reality through speech,” she answered, “and Ben...”

“I can show him,” Ben volunteered. Since his death and his resurrection, his control over them had improved considerably. He knew he had to be cautious, but they wouldn’t be tearing him apart anytime soon. “Just for a moment.”

“If you’re sure,” Allison said warily.

Ben took a breath, and released them.

The Horror hummed happily, the noise reverberating in his head, unfurling from his stomach, and Ben can still vaguely remember the days when it used to be painful, releasing them. It was still uncomfortable, but more like indigestion than something bursting forth from his stomach. He allowed them to extend, reaching up to curl around the rafters above and the staircase, and the discomfort faded as they seemed to relax with their release.

Standing up, Dave quickly moved around the back of his armchair, watching the tentacles with an expression somewhere between terror and fascination. Almost as soon as he’d released them, Ben pulled them back in through their portal, and while he felt a moment of resistance, they quickly bent to his encouragement, disappearing into the strange beach that Ben went to in his sleep, sometimes.

“It’s like something from Star Trek,” Dave said softly, and Allison chuckled. It made sense that Dave would be a science-fiction nerd. According to Klaus, he loved reading almost as much as Ben. “That was outta’ sight.”

Allison smirked. “There’s a reason our father thought we could stop the apocalypse.”

Dave sighed shakily, turning around. “Klaus?” He shouted, hugging himself.

There was a shuffle, then a thump upstairs. “What is it, Davey?” He called back, tired and strained. Ben’s breath caught in his throat, because it was Klaus, and he’d known that he was alive before, but being told that his brother was alright and actually hearing him speak were two separate things.

“Come down here,” Dave said, glancing back at Ben and Allison, “we have some more visitors.”

Another thud, and a door opened. Soon, Klaus appeared at the top of the stairs, his hair cropped close to his head, wearing a loose, lacy white shirt and simple blue pants. His face was clean shaven, and for once, there wasn’t any makeup on his face. No eyeliner smudged around his eyes, or lipstick on his mouth. It should’ve made him look older, but he looked younger and brighter than he’d been in years.

“Who are they?” Klaus exclaimed, looking down at them with exhaustion and confusion, but no recognition.

Ben’s breath caught in his throat, because Klaus couldn’t remember him. He couldn’t remember him—

Allison gave him a little wave. “I’m your sister, Allison.”

Ben couldn’t speak, even if he knew what to say, because Klaus couldn’t remember him. What was he supposed to say to him? That he was his ex-dead brother, or that he was the one with a tentacle creature in his stomach? Klaus couldn’t remember, but Five had suggested that he probably didn’t want to.

After a moment, when it was clear Ben wouldn’t say anything, she introduced him, too. “This is Ben, our brother.”

Looking between them, Klaus sighed dramatically, burying his head into his hands and rubbing his eyes forcefully with the heels of his palms. He looked up at them again, like he was checking to make sure that they were still there, and groaned when they were. “ _Dave_ ,” he whined, shoulders slumping as he stomped down the stairs, “there was clearly something off about the kid from this morning. Why did you allow more of them inside?”

Klaus couldn’t remember them.

“Why am I suddenly so popular?” Klaus asked, throwing up his hands in frustration. Ben noticed the silver dog tags around his throat. “I mean, with a face like mine, I _suppose_ that I can understand the appeal, but your story isn’t believable, or compelling. We don’t even—”

“Look alike?” Allison supplied, smiling ruefully. “We’re adopted.”

“They’re telling the truth, I think,” Dave agreed. “They have your umbrella tattoo.”

Klaus looked between them, gnawing on his bottom lip. Brow furrowed, expression uncertain, he sighed, shaking his head. The knot twisting in Ben’s chest unraveled, and the Horror calmed its squirming. “Shit,” he groaned, tilting his head back. “If Dave believes you, I don’t have any reason not to. If this is some trick, I’m gonna’ be pissed.”

“Do you remember anything?” Allison asked him, cautiously hopeful.

“Flashes, and dreams, sometimes...” Klaus said, waving his hand above his head dismissively. Ben was glad to see he hadn’t stopped talking with his hands, and that his mannerisms and manner of speaking hadn’t changed, either. “I remember my mother making me waffles when I was little, I think. With blueberries.”

Allison smiled faintly. “Her name was Grace.”

Klaus hummed, wrapping a hand around his dog tags. “So what about these powers that the kid was talking about?“

Allison choked on a laugh. “It’s... kind of hard to explain.”

Dave gestured towards Ben, wincing. “He showed me his, uh, tentacles.”

“And what can you do?” Klaus asked, turning towards Allison and looking over her skeptically. Ben could tell that he was still doubtful, but his curiosity was overriding his disbelief. “Are we like the Avengers, fighting crime? Or are we,” he gasped, cupping his cheeks in amazement, “the _supervillains?_ Do we have costumes, catchphrases?”

“We were child superheroes,” Allison explained awkwardly, wringing her hands in her lap. She looked towards Ben, and he tried to smile to reassure her, but it turned out closer to a grimace. “Born on the same day, in the same year, and our father adopted us because he knew we were, well, special.“

Klaus leaned against a wall, looking towards Dave. “And the... _ghosts?_ ”

“Are real,” Ben answered. “I was dead, for awhile, but I’m better now. We stayed together.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Klaus scoffed disbelievingly.

“He was,” Allison assured him wryly. It was ironic that they’d gone from not believing Klaus about Ben being there, to Klaus not believing them about Ben being a ghost. “We had a funeral and everything. It’s, um... kind of a long story.”

“I’ve missed you,” Ben said.

It’d been nice, those first few days after he’d realized he was alive, but without Klaus, and the rest of their siblings, he didn’t know what to do, or how to take care of himself. He’d spent two months homeless because he couldn’t get a job, and almost three years living in the backroom of the restaurant he’d found work at before the others showed up. He had a newfound appreciation for Klaus’ resourcefulness, and for the bond he’d shared with him.

“We spent thirteen years together, just the two of us. And then—” he doubted he should be mentioning time travel at that point. And besides, that would lead to questions about Dave, and the apocalypses, and he wasn’t the right person to explain either of those situations. “Well, something happened, and we all got split apart, and for the first time, I was completely alone.”

Klaus’ expression softened to something like pity. “What about the others?”

“We ended up different places, after we left home,” Allison explained. “None of us knew that the others were even alive.”

“How many of us are there?” Klaus asked.

“Seven,” Ben answered, “including you.”

Klaus nodded, jaw clenching. “You should probably start from the beginning.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything’s going to plan! The question is, will it stay that way? Good thing their father branded them as children, I suppose.
> 
> Let me know what you think!! Your comments sustain me.


	4. I come complete and invincible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SONG REC: _Dirty Imbecile_ by The Happy Fits
> 
> WARNINGS: Klaus-typical mental health issues

_ Klaus woke up in the hospital with a murderous headache, and screaming in his ears. _

_ They were everywhere — haunting, spectral figures in various states of decay, some with their jaws hanging from their faces or bruising around their necks, bullet holes and tire marks and limbs hanging from them crookedly — and he’d started screaming, too. He’d screamed with them until his voice was hoarse, and the nurses jabbed a needle into his arm and injected him with something that brought back the calm and sleep and silence. _

_ When he’d woken again, there were fewer of them. A doctor tried to grab his arm to steady him, and he broke the man’s nose with his elbow, thinking that he was one of the hallucinations. That was what they were, the psychiatrists told him when he was transferred to the psych ward. Hallucinations, created by abnormal brain chemistry, or perhaps by the brain injury he’d sustained when he’d been hit by the vehicle that sent him to the hospital. _

_ The driver hadn’t been caught, and likely wouldn’t be. He’d felt rage, but it was tempered by whatever medication they’d given him. It simmered beneath his skin, but his mind was blissfully calm. Everything felt distant, like he was feeling everything through a layer of cotton, but the doctors assured him that it was normal. _

_ They diagnosed him with schizophrenia, perhaps a little too eagerly, but that hardly mattered to him when the medication they gave him made the hallucinations disappear, and that blessed silence return. He was grounded, himself again, and the doctors seemed almost surprised that it worked so well for him when for many, it took years to find a treatment that worked. _

_ He could recite his name, but not his birthday. When asked whether he had an emergency contact, he instinctively sputtered out Diego, but couldn’t remember the person that went along with the name. He couldn’t remember his address, and when the hospital ran his name through the city records, or even the state’s, they couldn’t find him. They checked with the army, but couldn’t come up with his service records, either. _

_ The name on his dog tags came up with a match, though — Private David Joseph Katz, of the same unit his tattoo suggested he served in, the 173rd Sky Soldiers. Serving his second tour in Vietnam, born in Wisconsin, a resident in the city of Dallas, Texas. _

_ They suggested that Klaus write him a letter, because they were from the same place, and he could ask if they served together. For awhile, he’d genuinely considered penning the man. He could ask if he knew him, and if he didn’t, well, who knew where he could go from there, but at least it would eliminate that as a possible connection. The dog tags would just be a puzzle piece from the wrong puzzle, irrelevant to the broken picture that was his past. _

_ But then the doctors started bringing their students into his room with them, and they’d talked about brain scans and experimental treatments, and they’d started treating more like a case study on traumatic brain injuries and schizophrenia than a living, breathing person, and he’d checked himself out soon afterwards, afraid that they’d move him to the psych ward permanently. At least it was laughably easy to steal a few bottles of meds from the hospital pharmacy, although how he instinctively could pick a lock, he didn’t know. _

_ Klaus didn’t end up writing the letter. But something felt like it was pulling him to the enlistment office, some instinctual feeling that Vietnam was where he’d find his answers, and in the absence of anything keeping him in Dallas, he decided to take a leap of faith and trust his instincts. _

_ It was undoubtably the best decision he’d ever made. _

The umbrella tattoo (brand) on his wrist itched.

With his medication making his eyelids heavy, it was hard to concentrate on what they were saying, and easier to lean against Dave’s side and let him pay attention for him. He knew they’d be having a long, hard talk when their guests left regardless, so he could just ask Dave to repeat everything they’d told them once he felt more tethered to his body.

He didn’t want to believe them, not when his life, while not exactly normal, certainly wasn’t superheroes and time travel levels of abnormal, but it was hard when the evidence was laid out right in front of him. Their matching tattoos (brands) and the way the man (Ben, his memory supplied) seemed to know everything about him was irrefutable proof, even if their displays of supernatural abilities weren’t weirder by comparison than them turning out to be his forgotten adopted siblings.

There were the dog tags, too. Ben talked of briefcases and Vietnam, and alternate timelines and time travel, and while objectively it made sense, his mind refused to believe that he’d fallen in love with Dave only to somehow _lose_ him. Not when he could remember meeting him when he’d first arrived in camp, how he’d greeted the fresh recruits with gentle smiles and friendly words, and how when their gazes met, it’d been love at first sight.

_ “Medic, medic, we need a fucking medic!” _

He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.

“And that’s how we ended up here,” Allison concluded, gesturing around the house.

They seemed genuine enough, and the boy from the day before had reacted strongly when he said that he couldn’t remember him. It was less a matter of believing now than it was a matter of whether he actually wanted anything from his old life back. There was a nagging voice in the back of his head that told him he had an obligation to help his family, but if that meant leaving Dave behind, he wouldn’t accept it. Dave was everything he had.

“Well,” Klaus sighed heavily, “it sounds like you’ve got everything handled.”

“We just need you, now,” Ben confirmed. “And then we can all go back.”

Dave tightened his grip on Klaus’ knee, and he squeezed his arm in response, trying to tell him quietly that he wasn’t going anywhere without him. Because they were a team, and if what they told him was true, he’d managed to find him twice by accident. If that didn’t mean they were soulmates, bound by a red string of fate or whatever else, he didn’t know what would.

“Let me think about it,” Klaus said wearily. “It’s a lot to take in, right now.”

“I understand,” Ben said, expression softening. “Vanya didn’t believe us at first, either.”

“Maybe we should get going,” Allison suggested.

Ben seemed reluctant. “We’ll be back tomorrow,” Ben assured him, “and we can introduce you to the others.”

Klaus imagined eight people crowded into their living room, and just the thought was enough to make his blood pressure rise. It was already hard enough having two of them, and the child alone had been frustrating to the point of almost eliciting a nervous breakdown.

“You’re always welcome,” Klaus lied, plastering in a fake smile.

Of course, he had no intention of actually being in the house whenever they decided to pay him a visit again.

They stood up, and gravitated towards the entryway. Klaus knew he looked fidgety, bouncing on his feet and rubbing at his elbows, but he just wanted them gone. As soon as they left, he could come up with a plan with Dave, and the sooner they could brainstorm something, the sooner everything could be fixed and go back to normal.

Allison gave a sheepish wave as she walked through the door, but Ben seemed to hesitate, looking back at him with a conflicted expression. “I know that I’m a stranger to you, but can I give you a hug?” He looked unsure, jaw clenched and posture stiff, and Klaus felt a strange rush of familiarity.

The request was unexpected, but Klaus was... okay with it. “Sure,” Klaus said awkwardly, opening his arms.

He’d been enveloped in an instant. Reaching up, he hugged the stranger, his brother, back, although his movements felt almost stilted. “It’s been sixteen years since I hugged you,” the stranger confessed. “Sorry,” he apologized, pulling away from him with a sniffle, scrubbing at his eyes.

Klaus didn’t know what to say to that. “It’s fine,” he assured him, guilt souring in his mouth.

They said their final goodbyes, and when the door was shut, Klaus finally allowed his mounting panic to rise to the surface.

“Dave,” he said shakily, looking towards him with an expression that he was certain must’ve been panicked, “let’s take that road trip we’ve been talking about. I just— we need to _leave_.”

Gathering him into his arms, Dave pressed a kiss against his brow, and Klaus leaned forwards to rest his head against Dave’s shoulder. “That’s something we should plan out before doing,” he said, and Klaus could admit that he had a point. Dave could be just as impulsive as him, sometimes, but he was definitely the more thoughtful one. “Ima would want to know where we’re going.”

Klaus sighed, feeling his stomach twist nervously. “Then let’s go somewhere else. I can’t stay here.”

Dave’s fingers danced along his spine soothingly. “We could take some of your canvases and head up to Canon Beach,” he suggested as they started to sway on their feet, “or out to Crater Lake. Rent a hotel room or something, just to get away for a few days.”

“That would be nice,” Klaus mumbled into his shoulder.

The dog tags around his neck felt like they were burning.

“Dave,” he sighed, looking up at him, “I feel like I’ve finally lost it.”

“I know that this shit’s crazy,” Dave sighed, brushing the hair from his face. He looked down at him with those beautiful blue eyes, his smile sympathetic. “I don’t know how, but it certainly explains a lot about... well, everything.”

“It’s like I’ve been backed into a corner, and they’re all expecting me to just— leave everything behind and go with them.”

“You don’t owe them anything, Klaus,” Dave promised him.

Klaus groaned, nodding. “Whoever they think I am, I’m not.”

“And if they don’t recognize that, it’s on them.”

“If we avoid them for long enough,” Klaus huffed, “maybe they’ll forget about us and leave.”

Dave winced. “Something tells me they’re used to being persistent.”

_ He was sitting on a leather couch, in a brightly illuminated room, and a knife flew between his legs, stabbing through the cushion. He skittered backwards and looked up, indignant,  _ (“Klaus—”) _ because it came too close to hitting him somewhere he definitely valued, but judging by the serious expression on— _

“—Klaus?” Dave asked, and when he blinked, Dave was staring at him with a concerned frown. “Lost you, for a second.”

“It’s nothing,” Klaus assured him hurriedly, “ _sorry_ , just— thinking.”

Dave’s expression softened. “It’s fine,” he said comfortingly, rubbing his jaw with his thumb. Klaus tried smiling up at him, but he figured it probably looked more like a grimace. “Get yourself packed, and we can take the convertible. I’ll call ima, and we can leave before three.”

“Let’s do Crater Lake,” Klaus suggested, tugging at Dave’s collar. “We haven’t been down there together, yet.”

Dave hummed, smiling down at him. “Maybe next year we can take the cross-country road trip. We could go to Yellowstone, and visit my cousins in Wisconsin, or see the capital.”

“I’d like that,” Klaus agreed.

“I’ll need to get the maps,” Dave sighed, rubbing at his eyes. They’d always had Klaus play the navigator, because his condition made it ‘ _unsafe_ ’ for him to drive, although why they’d let him be sent to Vietnam, he had no idea. The war needed its bodies, he supposed. “The drive’ll be, what, three hours?”

“Something like that,” Klaus tittered. He leaned upwards, pecked his nose, then pressed a chaste kiss against his partner’s mouth. “I’ll get the bags ready. Do you want me to pack yours?”

“Sure,” Dave consented with a chuckle. “Make sure to get the toothbrushes, and your pills.”

His pills.

It wasn’t a question, or something up to debate — he’d keep taking them. Even if the hallucinations _(ghosts, maybe, or whatever else—)_ were actually real, that didn’t mean it suddenly made them tolerable. Ben didn’t explain how he coped with them before, but the medication was how he was choosing to manage them himself. They scared the fuck out of him.

Being special was overrated.

Dave didn’t expect him to do anything he was uncomfortable with. He supposed it was why he found his family so unsettling. His past self felt like a separate person, forged in a different fire than him. It was clear that there was something they didn’t want to tell him, but he couldn’t imagine what it was when they freely discussed time travel and superpowers, and forty-three mysteriously pregnant women birthing miracle children.

Heading upstairs to the bedroom as Dave started to dial his mother at the telephone downstairs, he grabbed the suitcases from their closet, and folded their clothes carefully, just a couple of changes. Flipping open Dave’s sunglasses, he put them on as he packed shirts and trousers, and socks, because if spending a year in the jungle taught him anything, it was that wet feet were the worst form of torture.

Camera. Canvases. Oil paints, and brushes. Foldable easel.

He raided the medicine cabinet, taking out the aspirin and his chlorpromazine, and the spearmint toothpaste that Dave liked, alongside his own tubes of eyeliner. Best scenario, they wouldn’t need to be gone longer than three or four days, but he knew that he needed to be prepared for anything. He only hoped that his medication wouldn’t run out before he could get a proper refill on his prescription from his doctor, if worse came to worst.

Zipping up the bags, he carried them down one at a time, as Dave was setting the telephone down, posture significantly more relaxed. He always enjoyed talking with his mother, or his sisters and their kids. “You need help with that?” He asked, coming to grab the suitcase, and Klaus nodded.

“Put that in the car, and I’ll go grab the other.”

They were packed and ready to leave soon enough, and Klaus felt nothing but relief as he settled down in the passenger seat, the vehicle his lifeline. He’d always been better at running away than facing his problems, but it was his choice whether he wanted to stay or go, and he couldn’t make that decision with someone breathing down his neck.

Dave pulled out of the garage, and they left.

Clutching the dog tags around his neck, Klaus breathed easy, tilting his head back as they drove along the rode to get back to town before heading south. Reaching over, he put a hand on Dave’s thigh, and he covered it with his own hand, lacing their fingers together.

“We’ll be okay,” Dave promised.

Klaus smiled. “I know.”

The sun shining overhead through the thinning clouds, he tilted his head back against the headrest, Dave’s sunglasses still on his face. Nausea and nervousness twisted together in his stomach, but his anxiety was tempered by excitement at the thought of another trip with Dave.

In Vietnam, when neither of them knew whether they’d make it home safely, they’d promised each other that they’d go everywhere together. Visit every state, see all the sights, do everything they possibly could. Klaus had known within two months of meeting him that Dave was the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

_Hands pressing against a gaping wound, “Help, we need a medic,_ Dave _—!”_

He shook it off, squeezing Dave’s hand tighter.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dirty Imbecile_ is such a good song, I really suggest giving it a listen!
> 
> Anyways, I added a couple of tags. Our boys are on the run, now!


	5. bury me in the desert in my oshkosh b’gosh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five gets the self-care he deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SONG REC: _That’s Right I’m Five_ by Don’t Stop or We’ll Die
> 
> WARNINGS: none

“Ben, wait!” Allison called.

They watched as Ben marched out of the room, and Allison followed after him. Ray stood up, moving like he was going to chase after them, before seeming to think better of it. He continued to stand, staring at the door that Allison slammed shut behind her, and Five thought he could sympathize. Ray wanted to help, but it wasn’t like he and Ben were close.

“Damnit,” Diego cursed wetly, punching the wall. Reaching up, he rubbed at his eyes, lips curling into a wobbly frown.

“We’ll get Klaus back,” Five promised. He’d worked too hard for too long just to give up on bringing everyone home. It was going to be the seven of them, or none of them. “If too many of us see him today, it might scare him away. We just need to take our time with this, do our research properly—”

“We got _l-luh-lucky_ with Vanya,” Diego interrupted, gesturing towards their sister, who seemed to wilt when everyone turned to look at her. Five felt anger rise up briefly in him, before forcibly tempering it. Everyone coped differently, and no good would come of him snapping at his siblings. “These k-kinds of things don’t usually j-just resolve _themselves.”_

“I _know_ that,” Five gritted out, “which is why I’m telling you to be patient.”

Luther raised his hand shyly. “Maybe if we just—”

“Whatever you’re about to suggest,” Five stopped him, “think it through before you say it.”

“You know, I’m not _stupid_ , despite what you seem to think,” Luther scoffed, his brow furrowing. “I lived on the moon for four years, _on my own_ —”

“We all know about your _m-moon trauma_ , Luther,” Diego drawled, rolling his eyes.

“I thought we weren’t invalidating each others’ experiences anymore,” Vanya scolded, looking between them incredulously. She stood up, arms crossed defensively over her chest, and the others fell quiet. Five supposed that after blowing up the moon and saving their asses at the barn, it was understandable that she elicited their respect. “Luther deserves a say.”

“If you’re all going to squabble like children,” Five sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets and leaning against the bathroom doorframe, “I’m going to have to ask you to do it outside. I’ve suffered two apocalypses in as many weeks, and I’d like to sleep now, thanks.”

At that, his siblings seemed somewhat chastened.

“You’ve done the most for us,” Luther spoke up, “and we haven’t really said thank you. Y’know, for saving our lives, twice. So, thanks.”

“ _Three_ times, actually,” Five corrected, because he couldn’t help himself. The looks of surprise on their faces made him feel self-indulgent, but after everything he’d done to save them, he supposed that he deserved some recognition. “In the barn, I rewound time after the Handler killed you.”

“That’s just not _fair,_ bro,” Diego complained, although the grin that spread across his face told him that he wasn’t too upset about it. “Thank you, I guess.”

“Thanks, Five,” Vanya said, smiling softly, “for saving us.”

“I’m grateful for you keeping Allison safe,” Ray agreed, smiling kindly.

“And, uh,” Elliott piped up awkwardly, “thanks for saving me from the KGB.”

Diego rolled his eyes. “For the last time, they weren’t the KGB.”

“Weren’t they the IKEA mafia?” Vanya asked, frowning.

“I thought they were Swedish,” Luther said, confused. “What’s IKEA? Is that a country?”

With that, the room descended into childish bickering again, but Five’s heart was too full to care. Sniffling, he watched as his siblings bickered, and for the first time in almost forty-six years, he forced himself to relax. Even if they weren’t all together yet, there wouldn’t be another apocalypse. With the Handler gone, and Herb in charge, the Commission was no longer a threat, and he doubted that anyone would be ending the world again anytime soon. The Swedes weren’t coming after them, and their father wasn’t around to mess everything up again.

He was safe to enjoy having his family back. But first, he was so damn tired.

“Not to break up the family reunion,” Five interrupted, inwardly wincing at the tremble in his voice, sounding painfully unsure even to his own ears, “but I was serious when I said I’d like to sleep.”

“We can leave,” Vanya said patiently. “You can get some rest, and we’ll come wake you up for dinner, yeah?”

“Sure,” Five sighed, “just— make sure Allison and Ben make it back.”

It never got old, saying Ben’s name and having him be actually alive. He’d been dead for so long that sometimes, it almost felt like they were talking about someone else, some imposter pretending to be their brother. But through a fluke of his own powers, their brother had been resurrected. Even if they’d been scattered through the time stream and had to prevent another apocalypse, it would’ve been worth it just to have Ben alive again.

Whatever miscalculation he’d made, he was grateful for it.

“They can handle themselves,” Diego reminded him.

Five huffed, sitting heavily on the bed. “I seem to be the one who has to fix everything when things go wrong. Don’t blame me for being cautious.”

“You have a right to be worried,” Vanya assured him. Turning towards Diego, she smiled conspiratorially, eyes crinkling at the corners. “We don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to keeping out of trouble.”

“I’m sure we can keep ourselves occupied for awhile,” Ray said warmly.

His family left, the door clicking shut behind them, and Five breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth as he stretched out his tense shoulders. It was the first time in over two weeks that he was alone, and didn’t have anywhere to go, or anything to do, and the feeling was almost intoxicating.

Grabbing the bottle of red wine he’d stolen from Klaus’ house, he took another swig of the cheap alcohol, wincing at the pungent, slightly bitter taste of it. He set it back down, reaching down to unlace his shoes, and the smell that hit him made him wrinkle his nose. He’d barely taken his shoes off since ‘borrowing’ them from Elliott, and he hadn’t had a proper shower in twice that long. It was time he updated his hygiene practices.

Setting them aside for later, he peeled off his sweater, and the shirt that clung to him with his sweat. Head a little fuzzy from the liquor, he walked into the bathroom, feet sore and muscles stiff, and turned on the faucet to the bath, wincing at the loud noice of water hitting the porcelain of the tub.

When it was full, he stepped into the lukewarm water, feeling his muscles and joints practically singing with relief. Sinking into the tub, back pressed against the wall, he remembered that first heavenly bath he’d taken at the Commission headquarters after the Handler had recruited him, and sighed heavily, eyes slipping closed. When he was a child, he never understood how Klaus could bathe for hours and do nothing else, but he thought he could understand now, after forty-five years in the apocalypse with no plumbing.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, because his eyelids were so damn _heavy_ , and he told himself that it wouldn’t hurt to simply relax, just for a moment. With the Commission under restructuring and the apocalypse averted, it was safe to just close his eyes, and—

Suddenly, he was being jerked awake by a gasp, water splashing as he lurched into a more defensive position. Eyes raking across the bathroom, his vision blurry from sleep deprivation and neck stiff from the awkward angle his head had been resting at, his gaze landed on Allison, standing in the entryway of his hotel room with a surprised expression on her face.

“How’d you get in?” Five asked, squinting at her.

“You left the door unlocked,” Allison said wryly.

Beginner’s mistake. He could afford to relax, but he couldn’t get careless.

Setting down a paper bag, she opened the door and backed out of it, seeming amused. “Ben and I picked you up some new clothes,” she said, gesturing towards the bag. He glanced towards where his uniform was hanging, then reminded himself that he hadn’t washed it properly in days. “Hopefully they’re the right size. We shopped in the men’s section.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Five assured. After a moment, he added, “thanks.”

“No problem. We’re meeting in the lobby for dinner.”

She left, and Five sighed, rolling his sore neck. Scrubbing himself off vigorously with a washcloth and cheap hotel soap, he hurried to dry himself off and get dressed, knowing that he couldn’t be the last one to arrive.

It was strange, seeing himself in a plain, blue cardigan and beige trousers. He was dressed like a _grandfather_ , he realized distantly, and the laugh that came out of him at the thought sounded fake, even if it was genuine. Like it belonged to someone else. Adjusting the cardigan’s sleeves, fixing the stiff collar of the dress shirt he wore underneath, he stared at himself in the mirror, and at the uniform clothes hanging on the towel rack behind him.

In his younger body, he was a stranger, even to himself. Five, the temporal assassin, had become Five the boy again, but with his mind still stuck in the future, it was like nothing had really changed. Like when he looked into the mirror, the child staring back at him was just a trick of the light.

He received some strange looks when he finally made it to the lobby, his siblings looking at him questioningly, but nobody commented on the way he was dressed, or on how wet his hair was. His siblings had changed into clothes they hadn’t fought in, and he almost felt overdressed in comparison to them. Ray was wearing a plain suit, but the others were wearing street clothes, sweaters and scarves and comfortable pants.

“You look older,” Diego teased.

Five could feel his own face heat, blood rushing to his cheeks. “Shut it, Diego.”

“It’s almost like we’re a proper family again,” Vanya mused, looking at them fondly, “sneaking out to Griddy’s.”

“I just hope everything will be the same when we get back,” Allison said wistfully.

Five knew she was thinking about Claire, and while he wanted to promise that she’d get her daughter back, he couldn’t be certain. The mess they’d made with their father at the restaurant was bad enough, let alone becoming wanted criminals and stealing two people from the timeline.

At least he’d had the forethought to check the impact of the known variables they’d changed and their influence on the timeline on the infinite switchboard. There would be some minor technological changes, and a small recession in the late eighties that hadn’t happened before, but besides that, little had changed for the timeline. And nothing would, so long as they kept their involvement in the seventies to a minimum.

He just hoped he wasn’t missing something.

“Where are we going?” Ray asked, tucking his hands into his suit pockets.

“Ben saw a burger place when we were coming into town,” Allison said, leaning against their brother’s shoulder.

Five decided that worrying could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Five doesn’t know can’t hurt him. :’)
> 
> (Yet, at least.)
> 
> So if you haven’t noticed, the timeline’s a little wonky in this one. We’ll be switching between two separate perspectives, sometimes, with the family’s perspective contrasted against Klaus and Dave’s, so not everything will be linear.
> 
> Next chapter, we’ll be catching up with Klaus and Dave! It’s already mostly finished, so expect it’ll be out in a few days. Another familiar face will be making her appearance. If y’all have any suggestions, go ahead and drop them down in the comments, and go check out the Fantasy AU that I’m writing! I survive solely on your feedback, and I appreciate any comments you have!
> 
> As always, yell at me at @gay-poster-child, and send me some requests! I’ll be glad to write something (not incest) for you. ;)


	6. the freckles in our eyes are mirror images

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus and Dave arrive at Crater Lake, a familiar face appears, and no matter what, they’ll always have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SONG REC: _Such Great Heights_ by Iron & Wine
> 
> WARNINGS: a ghost is described in moderately graphic detail, mentioned/implied domestic violence (very minor), PTSD, mild emetophobia warning
> 
> Most of the warnings listed above are probably unnecessary, but I just wanted to put them there in case. This chapter is... a little less fun than the others, but it’ll get better soon, I promise. Stay safe, and enjoy!

_ “And this,” Doctor Johnson explained, “is your chlorpromazine.” _

_ “What’s that?” Klaus croaked, pulling his knees up closer to his chest. When the psychiatrist handed him the small bottle of pills, he turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully. Its weight was familiar, even if its name wasn’t, in the same way that his hospital room was. He’d been there before, smelt the cleaning solution and felt the crisp bedsheets against his skin. _

_ The sense of  déjà vu made him uneasy. _

_ “An antipsychotic medication,” he answered. The bottle had his name on the label, alongside the dosage specifics. “It’s what’s making everything—“ _

_ “—quiet?” Klaus completed. _

_ “Sure,” Doctor Johnson agreed, mouth curling into a fond smile. After he‘d almost broken his nose, Klaus hadn’t expected him to continue being so nice to him, but Doctor Johnson seemed understanding. “That’s one way of putting it. Just two of those little pills every morning, and hopefully, it’ll stay that way. But we can adjust the dosage for you if we need to.” _

_ “Okay,” Klaus breathed. His stomach twisted, and he breathed deeply, fighting the urge to vomit. Even though he knew he should be more concerned, feel something besides the empty sort of calm he felt, everything felt oddly serene. Like he’d been hollowed out and had his insides stuffed with cotton. _

_ “Is there anyone we can contact for you?“ _

_ “Diego,” Klaus sputtered, but he couldn’t picture the man’s face, or remember what their relationship was. He knew that he was important, that he was the one who was supposed to take care of him, but he couldn’t remember him. But wherever he was, he knew that Diego would find him eventually, and that Diego would make everything better and that he would be fine soon. He’d help him. “Diego, he can— it’s Diego.” _

_ “Diego, who?” _

_ He couldn’t remember his last name. “I don’t know.” _

_ “Do you remember who he is to you? Or his phone number?” Doctor Johnson asked patiently. “There are a lot of men named Diego here in Dallas. Do you have an address, or a phone number we could call?” _

_ “No,” Klaus mumbled. He stared down at the bottle of medication in his hands, at the tattoos on his palms,  HELLO and GOOD BYE in a matching, clumsy font, and tried desperately to remember who Diego was. “I don’t— I can’t, I just—“ _

_ “It’s alright,” the psychiatrist assured him. He stood up, dusting the back of his coat, and reached down to take the medication, putting it down on the table adjacent to his bed. “We’ll continue our conversation later, whenever you’re ready to continue. For now, try to get some sleep, Klaus. You certainly need it.” _

_ Klaus silently picked at his hospital gown, and nodded. _

The drive to Monroe, Oregon was five hours.

By the time they pulled into the bed and breakfast parking lot, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, and Klaus stood with his hands shoved in his pockets and his jacket zipped up against the biting cold as Dave worked to get the bags out of the trunk. When they dragged themselves into the dimly lit lobby, a bored looking man standing at the reception desk, Dave negotiated quietly with him for a room as Klaus struggled to not fall asleep in an armchair.

He was practically dragged to their room, and when Dave opened the door after fumbling with the keys they’d been given, he stumbled blindly through the doorway and collapsed onto one of the beds. Dave tugged his boots from his feet, then rolled him over to help him remove his shirt, unbuttoning it carefully.

“This bed is too small,” Klaus sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he spread his arms. Underneath his palms, he could feel the crisp bedsheets, and the shallow wrinkles on them. Both sets of his fingertips easily reached the edges of the mattress.

“You still want me in it?” Dave asked playfully. He already knew the answer.

“Dave,” Klaus whined, reaching up blindly and making grabbing motions, “get into bed with me already.”

Undressing to his underwear, Dave clambered into bed, and Klaus wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into his collarbone and closing his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Klaus, strong and warm, and he focused on listening to his heartbeat through his ribcage.

Klaus would choose Dave every time.

“Can’t believe I’m almost four years older than you,” Klaus mumbled, voice muffled by Dave’s chest. “I feel old.”

Laughing, Dave pressed his nose into his hair. His fingers traced the tattoo on his stomach reverently. “You’re not old, doll.”

“If my maybe-siblings were telling the truth, I am,” Klaus complained, rubbing the dog tags around his neck between his forefinger and thumb. Dave shook his head with a chuckle, and Klaus hooked their legs together under the sheets, closing his heavy eyelids. “You‘re in love with an _old man_ , Dave. An old man who hasn’t even been born, yet.”

“ _I’m_ the old man, then,” Dave huffed, amused.

“We’re both old,” Klaus mumbled. “We’ll be old together.”

He was so exhausted, sleep came easily.

Of course, morning came too soon.

He woke to gurgled screaming and sunlight catching on his face, burning his eyes through their closed lids, Dave’s arm thrown over his back as they slept pressed close together. They’d kicked the blanket away sometime during the night, and Klaus’ skin prickled at the feeling of the crisp air, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing up.

Reaching up, he pressed his hands against his eyes, groaning. Rolling onto his back, Dave’s bare arm dragging against his skin, he looked up, and found that the cries were coming from a woman in a nightgown, blonde hair tangled and an ugly looking slash across her throat. He met her gaze, and she stumbled towards him, hands covering the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“ _Klaus_ —”

“You’re not real,” he groaned, tipping his head back against his pillow as he watched her with hooded eyes.

“Please, help me,” the hallucination begged, blood dripping from her lips. She collapsed next to the bed, reaching up to claw at his chest and arms. Her hands passed straight through him, and Klaus gently extracted himself from Dave’s embrace, slipping out of bed. “Klaus, _please!_ ”

“Sorry,” Klaus muttered, walking stiffly towards the bags they hadn’t unpacked, yet. That could wait until after they’d come back from seeing the lake. “Can’t help you until I help myself.”

Fishing through his bag, he found his bottle of medication, the bottle of chlorpromazine a comforting weight in his hands. In the bathroom, he uncapped the bottle, and shook out two tablets into his palm.

The woman wailed, leaning against the bathroom door, blood smearing on her hands as she clawed at her throat and sobbed wetly. He watched as she reached up to pull harshly on her blonde hair, and scrubbed at her face, spreading crimson over her cheeks and brow. She looked like she’d just been woken up, barefooted and still in her nightclothes. Besides the wound, there were bruises along her arms that were almost too familiar to him.

“So, who did you in?” Klaus asked almost casually, before he really registered that he was asking the question.

The pills were still cupped in his palm, staring up at him with what might’ve been betrayal, if they could feel it. He knew he shouldn’t be talking to the hallucinations, that the pills helped for a reason, but his morbid curiosity stopped him from taking them and being through with it.

“John,” she gasped, “it was _John_ , help, please—”

“Who’s John?” Klaus asked, leaning on the counter.

She sobbed loudly. “My husband.”

Humming, he took the pills dry. “An’ where’s he?”

“He, _he_ ,” she gasped, gesturing helplessly towards the door. Blood spilled over her bottom lip, and gushed between her fingertips from her wound, spilling onto the ugly tile flooring of the bathroom. The sight was sickening. “John, how could he _do_ this to me? Johnny—”

Might as well have an adventure, he supposed. His medication would start working soon enough.

He put on a shirt, his boots, and his heavy jacket, wrapping his scarf around his throat and following her as she stumbled straight through the closed door, opening it up and locking it behind himself. The smell of breakfast filtered into his nose, scrambled eggs and breakfast meats and freshly made coffee, and when they passed through the entrance, he saw a handful of people dining.

They exited out onto the street, and Klaus’ stomach twisted nervously as she started stumbling down the road in a seemingly random direction. He knew he should head back, wait until Dave woke and settle down for breakfast with him, but something told him he should follow. If she led him nowhere, he could be certain it was just the hallucinations, and there was nothing else behind them.

And if she actually led him somewhere, well. Fuck him, right?

They walked down the street, his boots crunching in the early morning snow, and he wished he’d grabbed his camera. Monroe was a quaint little town, with a handful of newer houses and facilities intermixed with the historical buildings, and the snow caught on the branches of the pines around him, crisp white contrasted against dark green.

She led him along a smaller road, with dead pine needles and frost covering the pavement and overgrown foliage covering the sidewalks, and he pulled his shirt upwards to cover his mouth, wishing he’d brought his scarf. They walked past a cluttered gift shop, with posters and snow-globes and wind chimes hung in the frosty window, and a restaurant that Klaus absently noted for their later use.

They arrived at a small building with its exterior painted pink, frosty roses growing in the garden out front, and Klaus’ stomach twisted in anticipation. The woman sobbed, pointing towards the building and crouching down on the steps leading towards it, then wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in them.

Slowly, he approached the door, walking up the pathway towards it. There was a sign hanging on the door, written in an elegant font, and his heart leapt into his throat when he read the sign.

_NEW SMILES DENTAL OFFICE  
JOHN FARLEY, DDS_

“John,” the woman sobbed mournfully.

He turned on his heel, and walked away.

Hands shaking, he marched down the street, ignoring her desperate pleas until they’d completely faded away. He struggled to take a breath around the lump in his throat, walking quickly past worried locals and impersonal buildings, the rising sun glaring at him through the trees.

Before he knew it, he was shoving through the front door of the bed and breakfast, turning sharply down the corridor towards their room. The lights of the hallway flickered ominously, rattling in their glass cages, but he ignored them, keeping his eyes firmly fixed upon the floor.

Dave was awake when he walked into the room, arms stretched out above his head as he looked down at a magazine with a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge on the open page. “Good morning,” he greeted, before he seemed to take in Klaus’ disheveled appearance. Concern twisted his features, lips curling into a frown. “Are you feeling alright, Klaus?”

“My medication’s just making me a little nauseous,” Klaus lied, the words tasting sour in his mouth. Dave’s expression softened in sympathy, his lips stretching into a tentative smile.

“Are you well enough to get breakfast?”

Klaus nodded. “I should be fine.”

“You should eat if you can,” Dave suggested. “Don’t know when you’ll be able to again. Tomorrow’s Purim, and—”

“Dave, shit,” Klaus cursed, groaning, “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dave interrupted, chuckling. “ _Ima_ understood, and I can still fulfill the _mitzvot_. And the most important part is celebration and remembrance, which we can do together.”

Klaus groaned. “This year was supposed to be the year we celebrated the holidays together properly.”

“We have the rest of our lives to do it right,” Dave promised, his gaze soft and adoring. Klaus thought that he fell in love all over again. “It doesn’t matter, so long as we’re together. I’ll be fasting today. _Ta’anit Esther_ , all that.”

“Sure,” Klaus chuckled, leaning up to kiss him.

They stood together in the hotel room, and Dave put his hands on Klaus’ hips, holding him close. He massaged his hipbones with his thumbs, and Klaus lowered his head to press his brow against his partner’s shoulder.

“It’s really cold out there. We could just, I don’t know... stay here,” Klaus suggested, smoothing a hand down Dave’s side to pinch his ass playfully.

Dave swatted him away, chuckling. “Sorry. We came to see the lake, so we’re seeing the lake.”

Dave grabbed the camera, but Klaus’ painting could wait until they’d made it back to the hotel room. Klaus knew better than to try painting in the cold, and Crater Lake itself would be freezing, even in the middle of March. He wasn’t risking his fingers for that. Dave dressed warm, his bag slung over his shoulder, and in the bed and breakfast’s dining room, Klaus nibbled on salted toast.

They left later than they’d intended, but they made it to Crater Lake by the early afternoon.

The park itself, with snow piled up high on either side of the road and conifers covered with snow, was just as beautiful as he hoped it would be. Above their heads, dark grey clouds were brewing on the horizon, and he was glad that he’d grabbed his heavy coat rather than the lighter one.

There were hills of snow around the perimeter of the parking lot, and Klaus couldn’t help but touch the wall of white, the wet coldness of it seeping through his gloves. The quiet clicking of a camera made him jump, and when he turned around, Dave was shaking out a polaroid.

”I think this is your first time seeing proper snow,” Dave mused, gently tucking the photograph between the pages of his copy of _Dune; Messiah_ where it sat in his bag.

“We’ve only been back in the states a year,” Klaus reminded him, “and barely that.”

“Still,” Dave said, shaking his head. “Back when we lived in Madison, back home in Wisconsin, the snow used to pile up so high, we would have to dig ourselves out of our house. _Ima_ would make us babka and hot chocolate, and we’d get to miss school and watch cartoons all morning.”

Whenever Dave told stories about his childhood, Klaus had wished he had something to share in return. He’d wanted to offer up everything to Dave, to be able to trust him with his entirety, but it was never something that he could give him. But taking into consideration recent revelations, some things, he figured, were better left forgotten.

“Babka,” Klaus sighed, blowing a kiss as his eyes fluttered shut. It sounded heavenly to him. “Don’t make me crave your mother’s baking.”

Dave laughed, bright and carefree. “We can see if we can find the ingredients for it at the general store, and I’ll make it tomorrow. I’ll ask ima for her recipe when I call her tonight.”

“You’re too perfect for me,” Klaus moaned.

“ _Hamantaschen_ , too,” Dave continued. “We could make it for the hotel.”

Humming, Klaus resisted the urge to lean forwards and melt into his partner’s side. “It’s so damn _cold_ ,” he whined, rubbing his hands together. He knew he should’ve brought mittens. Dave was right when he said that he hadn’t seen proper snow. Around the parking lot, the mound of compacted snow was taller than the both of them. “I knew we should’ve stayed in bed.”

“But where’s the fun in _that?_ ” Dave teased.

“You’re from Wisconsin,” Klaus huffed, “the cold’s different for you.”

Dave laughed, reaching up to fix Klaus’ scarf for him. “Sure.”

There was a path heading away from the parking lot that had been cleared, footprints in the shallow snow, and Klaus supposed it was the best direction to head in. The visitor’s center was snowed in, and they didn’t have a proper map, but the lake was meant to be big. He doubted they could miss it, not when they were already standing in the parking lot outside of it.

“This way,” Klaus instructed, bundling himself up tighter in his jacket as he started in the direction of the pathway.

“Have you been here before?” Dave asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I have a good feeling about it,” Klaus insisted.

“Well, your intuition usually turns out to be correct,” Dave mused, “so I guess we’ll just wander in that direction, then.”

Klaus was tired, and freezing, but the cold did wonders to wake him up. The medication was making him lethargic, but it was hard to feel exhausted when Dave was close enough that their pinkies brushed as they walked.

The evergreens and conifers were sparse, and the path just kept heading out and upwards, but he could see at the crest of the hill an expanse of grey, the stormy sky above them rather ominous. Klaus’ knees were achy, but he was getting on in age, he thought ruefully. Dave, meanwhile, was still thirty.

When they finally reached the end of the trail, it was Dave who sucked in a breath of surprise, staring out at the lake in front of them. The crater had an island that was close to them, rising out of the deep blue waters, and as far as he could see, the land stretched out around them, dark trees and white snow extending far past where his eyes could see.

“It’s beautiful,” Dave said warmly, glancing towards Klaus with a smile. There were other tourists on the lookout point, but Klaus could hear the love and affection behind the words. “Stand out in front of it, I want your picture.”

“I’m the real natural landmark here,” Klaus declared.

They walked out towards the edge of the lake, as far out as they could go, and although Klaus was a little nervous about the stability of the snow beneath him, he decided that it was likely safe enough to stand on. He stood patiently as Dave loaded the film into the Polaroid camera, then aimed it at him, squinting through the view finder. There was the familiar click again, and Dave was shaking out another photograph.

“Here,” Dave said, holding it towards him when it was mostly developed. Then a little quieter, after a furtive glance around them, he added, “You’re beautiful.”

It made Klaus’ heart stutter. He looked adequate, in his own opinion, but if Dave thought he looked beautiful, then he supposed that he did. He loved Dave, and somehow, Dave loved him, too, and he trusted him enough to believe him whenever he told him that he was lovely. He wasn’t sure why it always evoked such a strong emotion in him. Maybe it was the absence of it in his childhood, or something.

“Your turn,” Klaus declared, blinking rapidly to clear the tears from his eyes.

He took a photo of Dave, and laughed about how awkward they looked, standing stiffly in front of the lake. Dave tucked the photographs between the pages of his book much like he did with the first, and they started to walk along the trail that headed around the rim of the lake.

It was nice, being able to appreciate the feeling of the wind on his face and the knowledge that it was just him, Dave, and the handful of other visitors stupid enough to come in early spring. In the moment, there was nothing besides Dave at his side, the birds singing, and the view of the lake from the vantage point they walked along, and something about the simplicity made him want to weep.

Everything was spinning out of control, but he could at least have this.

“There’s something wonderful about not feeling like the center of the universe for awhile,” Klaus sighed, pressing a hand over his chest. “ _Comme si on m'avait ôté un poids des épaules_ , if you’ll pardon my French.”

“Sure,” Dave chuckled, fondly amused.

His hand itched to reach out and grab Dave’s, but he settled for the occasional bump of their elbows, the brush of their fingers together. It wasn’t enough, but it was what little he could have. Whenever they got back home, he reminded himself, or even to their hotel room, they could touch without being afraid of the rest of the world seeing them.

The trail they followed looped back around, and even if Klaus had enjoyed the walk, the silence, he still had known that it eventually had to come to an end. Above them, the sun had already started to make its way back down towards the horizon, the afternoon coming to its closing hours, and he yawned sleepily, wishing that he could lean against Dave.

“If you want to check out the gift shop,” Dave said warmly, “I’ll be back soon. I just need to take a piss before we leave.”

“Go ahead, soldier,” Klaus permitted, smiling at him. He felt more relaxed than he had in days, and Dave grinned, knocking his elbow against Klaus’ side. “I’ll just have a smoke.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble,” Dave warned teasingly.

“When have I ever?” Klaus gasped, pressing a hand against his chest in mock disbelief.

Dave headed off towards the restrooms, and Klaus sighed, tugging a box of cigarettes and his lighter out of his pocket. Slipping one of the little sticks out, he tucked it between his lips, looking out at the forest as he flicked on the lighter. Touching the flame to the end, cupping his hand around it to protect it from the wind, he shoved the lighter and carton back into his pocket, breathing in deeply around the cigarette.

A chill ran over his neck, the hairs prickling, and he hugged himself tighter, puffing out a breath of smoke into the cold afternoon air. He could feel a presence behind him, something ominous, and he didn’t want to turn around to look, but he started walking towards the restrooms Dave had disappeared in.

“Klaus?” He heard behind him.

Shit.

Slowing to a stop and turning around cautiously, he found a woman with dark hair and brown skin, lips smudged with maroon lipstick and a leather jacket worn on her narrow shoulders. She smiled at him when they made eye contact, eyes crinkling at the corners, and hesitantly reached up like she wanted to touch him. “ _Klaus_ ,” she breathed again.

“I don’t know you. You’ve got the wrong man,” Klaus said immediately. Plausible deniability, he reminded himself, was important to maintain. The others had been vaguely familiar, like an itching in the back of his skull, but she didn’t trigger any recognition. “Sorry.”

“No, Klaus,” she insisted, jogging towards him across the clearing, ”I’m your sister. I know you don’t remember me—”

“I don’t,” he repeated.

“—but I’m glad to see you’re alive, Klaus,” she finished, laughing a little as she came to a stop in front of him. Her expression was soft, but there was a light in her eyes that he didn’t like, less relief and more... anticipation. “And just _look_ at you! You look great. Have you been eating better?”

“Listen,” he sighed, wincing as he reached up to fidget with his shirtsleeves, “I know you— care, about me. But I just need some time to think.”

If they found him already, they’d have to go to further lengths to avoid them. That, or just give into their demands, but he’d built a life for himself. Why would he ever voluntarily choose to leave it just to go somewhere unknown with somebody he didn’t actually know?

“Do you know where the others are, then?” She asked, brow furrowing. “I was lost, like you. I didn’t think I’d ever see any of you again.”

He thought that all six of them had been together, but if she was his sister, was it some trick she was trying to pull? To get him to come back to wherever the others were? The sick feeling from before was back, his stomach twisting into anxious knots as every part of him screamed at him to run, to take the car and leave, but Dave was still gone, and he couldn’t just leave without him.

He took a cautious step towards the bathroom, as a test, and saw her lean subtly in the same direction.

“And which one of my sisters are you?” He asked warily. The alarm bells in his head were going off wildly.

“It’s Allison,” she breathed, reaching to pull up her sleeve. The umbrella brand was unmistakable, but she wasn’t the same woman he and Dave had met. Her face was slimmer, and her straight hair was cut short, and Klaus thought he might actually be sick. “I got separated, but—”

“I already met Allison,” Klaus interrupted, confusion overpowering the sense of wrongness he felt before it came rushing back to him. Everything in him was screaming to run away, get Dave, and leave. But he’d never been one to follow his instincts.

The woman, whoever she was, wasn’t fazed. “Don’t be silly, Klaus,” she tittered.

“Don’t lie to me,” Klaus scoffed, then instantly regretted it.  


She stared at him, lips thinning as the smile dropped from her face.

The punch she threw wasn’t expected.

Her fist hit him solidly in the cheekbone, a spark of pain exploding in his face, and he stumbled back, trying to catch his balance. She kicked out at him, but he ducked beneath the strike, cigarette dropping from his hand as he dodged the blow. When she tried to grab him as he was on the ground, he rolled away from her, managing to push back onto his feet.

Reaching up, he touched his mouth. His fingertips came away bloody, because he’d cut his lip on his teeth.

The woman scoffed. “I didn’t expect you to be good. You remember everything, don’t you?”

“Not a thing,” he corrected shakily, bouncing on his feet. Basic was a bitch, but it was effective, and he and a Dave would often spar together when his meds weren’t making him too exhausted to do much of anything. “Who are—”

Lurching forwards, she tried sweeping his legs out from beneath him, but he sidestepped her easily. When he tried to strike her back, she dodged his attack with a graceful ease, leaning back before striking out to punch him in the stomach. Gasping, he twisted out of her attack range, clutching at his waist, and she rolled her eyes, frustrated.

“Come on,” she huffed impatiently, “I’m on your side, Klaus. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, yeah,” he scoffed, throwing out his arms, “I can see that.”

“I wish you wouldn’t be so difficult,” the woman sighed, rushing forwards to grab his wrist, and—

_A hand gripped his wrist tightly as he was thrown into a dimly lit room, jerking away to avoid the hands clawing through him, screaming because he wanted out he wanted out_ he wanted out _and he wasn’t letting him_ out _, it’d been hours and they kept trying to grab him and he was scared that if he stayed for too long in the darkness, they’d be able to actually touch him, rip him apart, break him like a doll, and—_

_He wanted out._ He wanted out.

“Don’t touch me,” Klaus could hear himself say distantly, “don’t—”

Pressure built below his skin, and then imploded.

Everything seemed to lurch away from him, the woman flying away on a ripple of blue, and his breath caught in his throat as she landed in the shredded foliage some distance from him. The wastebaskets were sent hurtling, and the trees around them bent away, like he’d—

Bile rose up in his throat, but before he could scream, or be sick, a hand grabbed his shoulder. He tried to shove whoever was touching him away, because he was dangerous, what the fuck did he even do, and suddenly he was back in the jungles with the bombs falling around them and—

“Klaus,” a distant voice called shakily. Dave, he realized, feeling relief wash over him, because Dave was safe. “Klaus, we’re okay, but we have to go, _now_. C’mon, soldier. Let’s go.”

The hand tugged on him, and he went lax under his grip, because when he turned around, it was blue eyes staring back at him. Blue eyes, gentle and warm and terrified, and he took a shuddery breath, focusing on Dave’s face. He barely noticed as Dave gripped his shoulders, pushing him forwards.

There was ringing in his ears, although whether it was from the explosion or the sound of the camp’s warning sirens, he wasn’t certain. They were under attack, and he didn’t have his gun, or his helmet, but Dave was pushing him forwards, and he knew better than to question Dave. Around them, there were flashing lights, and he could hear boots stomping through the mud. When someone tried stopping them, they pressed on. He could smell the napalm.

He was shoved into a vehicle, and soon, it was moving as he struggled to calm himself down, to properly look at his surroundings, because where was he? He could see the sky, so they weren’t in the jungle, but they also weren’t on the coast. The wind started brushing against his skin, its coldness burning his lungs as he took in harsh breaths, and he as he looked around the car, he distantly realized that he wasn’t in a general purpose vehicle.

He was in Dave’s convertible, his used Ford Mustang with the dent in the rear fender, and Dave was driving with his jaw set and his fingers gripped tightly around the wheel. They were moving quickly, like they were driving on a proper road rather than muddy paths, and as he looked around at the snowy conifers, it dawned on him that it didn’t snow in Vietnam.

They weren’t in Vietnam, he reminded himself. They were okay, driving in Dave’s car, heading... somewhere. They’d gone home—

_ —but Dave never made it back. _

_ Klaus had gone home without him, had taken the briefcase and fled, leaving him there, and— _

“I’m gonna’ be- be sick,” Klaus confessed weakly, around a tongue that felt like lead.

“Klaus, I’m sorry,” Dave said, blindly reaching across him to the glovebox while keeping his eyes on the road, “shit, I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I don’t need to be watched like a fucking _child_ ,” Klaus spat. Dave tugged a paper bag out, passing it into his hands just in time for him to rip it open and retch what little he’d eaten that morning into the bag, throat burning. He didn’t mean to snap at him. “Sorry,” he gasped between spitting out mouthfuls of thin, sour liquid, his stomach already mostly empty from his meager breakfast of toast, “ _I’m sorry_ —”

“Klaus,” Dave said softly, massaging his knee carefully, sounding pained, “it’s alright. We’re safe.”

Klaus choked on his bile, hands shaking around the paper bag.

Rubbing his knee gently, Dave hummed mindlessly under his breath, pressing down on the gas to accelerate. Klaus sobbed, and when the tears started to fall, he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders heaving violently.

They left the park, and Dave parked diagonally in the bed and breakfast’s parking lot, the car taking up three spaces. Stumbling out of the car, Klaus watched him race up the front steps, disappearing into the building, and a few minutes later, he came out with their bags shoved underneath his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus apologized again.

“Klaus,” Dave said calmly, grabbing his knee as he started up the car, “you don’t need to apologize to me.”

“Where are we going?” Klaus asked, eyes watery.

“San Francisco,” Dave explained, “just for a few days. It should be far enough to lose them. I got a refund for the room here.”

“Oh. O’Connor lives there, right?”

“He’s been saying in his letters that he wants to have a reunion,” Dave said, lips quirking at the corners.

His blue eyes were distant, sweat beading on his forehead as he gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles went white. His voice was calm, gaze steady, but his hands were trembling, fingers shaking where they clasped the wheel and Klaus’ knee. Klaus knew he had to pull him back from whatever dark place his mind was going.

“Are you doing okay?” Klaus asked shakily, covering Dave’s hand with his own.

“Oh, you know,” Dave breathed, laughing a little hysterically at the end, “I’ll probably have a breakdown when we get to wherever we’re staying, but besides that, I’m peachy, baby.”

Klaus giggled, head tipping back against the headrest. He stared up at the blue sky, blue like Dave’s eyes, stomach twisting itself into knots as he replayed the past few hours in his head. The woman with the slit throat, the unmentioned seventh sibling, being the epicenter of some sort of explosion. If he thought about it too hard, he worried that his head would just crack from the pressure.

“We’re so fucked up,” Klaus sighed.

“Definitely,” Dave agreed. “But we’re fucked up together, yeah?”

_Klaus_ sniffled, reaching up to grab his dog tags. “Yeah, we are.”

“Your shit is _my_ shit, Klaus,” Dave assured him. He sounded so certain that it made Klaus’ chest tighten, more tears burning at his eyes. “Besides, I thought we were just gonna’ get old and boring—”

“Like your uncle?” Klaus asked, grinning when Dave started to laugh so hard he choked. He rubbed his thumb over the worn letters on the dog tags around his neck, and could almost feel the love in them. “What? It’s true.“

“This is why Brian hates you,” Dave teased.

“Dave,” Klaus said gravely, turning in his seat to look at him, “Brian hates me because I turned you gay.”

They made eye contact, hazel to blue, and for a moment, they managed to keep it together. Then Dave started laughing again, eyes crinkling at the edges, and Klaus followed him, slumping in his seat and clutching at Dave’s arm as he held him back equally tight. He could almost forget why they were running.

“The last two days have been so fucking weird,” Klaus sighed with a breathy laugh, twisting the mouth of his paper bag so it’s contents didn’t spill before placing it on the floor of the car behind his seat. They’d throw it away whenever they stopped the car. “I don’t even want to acknowledge it. It’s like I’ve finally gone completely mental.”

“We’re in the same boat, if that’s the case,” Dave reminded him. “You didn’t even get to see your brother’s tentacles. And when I found you back at the lake, it looked like a bomb had gone off.”

“I don’t even know what that was,” Klaus whined, covering his face. “I thought my power was just supposed to be ghosts.”

“Maybe you have two?” Dave suggested weakly.

Klaus snorted. “I’m a human grenade, then.”

Dave gestured towards his hands. “More like a human ouija board.”

Klaus looked down at his palms, HELLO and GOOD BYE, and—

“Oh,” he exclaimed mildly, “yeah, that... makes sense. Shit.”

Dave choked on a laugh, shaking his head. He seemed less distant, finally, although Klaus knew that both of them would be having a breakdown soon enough. A joint breakdown, he thought — how romantic.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the tardiness (this should’ve been published about three weeks ago), but I just moved into my university dorms, and it’s been quite the, uhm... transition. I’ve been getting settled, so this should be back to regular updates from here on out!
> 
> Funny story, I wanted to work around the Jewish calendar in this, because Dave is, well, you know, Jewish, and I wanted to keep the Jewish holidays in mind, but when I was first writing the story, I totally blanked and used the 2019 calendar rather than the 1970 calendar that’s the accurate one. I was writing this chapter, and then I realized, wait, wasn’t Purim sometime in March or April? And lo and behold, this chapter takes place on Purim Erev. The boys’ll be celebrating Purim next chapter!
> 
>  **Some quick translations and explanations here!**  
>  (1) _Ima_ (this is one spelling I’ve seen used) means ‘mother’ in Hebrew.  
> (2) Ta’anit Esther is a fast conducted around Purim (but not on it).  
> (3) Mitzvah translates to ‘commandment,’ and they’re basically things that have to be done by Jewish tradition, whether in daily life or on certain holidays. This includes things like donating to charity, or respecting one’s parents and elders.  
> (4) “Comme si on m'avait ôté un poids des épaules” means “it’s like someone took a weight off my shoulders” — my greatest thanks to ReeChoi for the native translation!! I really appreciated it. :’)
> 
> As always, if you see something inaccurate, let me know! I’m not Jewish, I didn’t exist in the 1970s, and the last time I was at Crater Lake was ten years ago when I was, like, eight. I barely remember anything except the massive wall of snow, and being terrified of falling off the edge because there weren’t guard railings.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! See you again soon, and thanks for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lethe's Bramble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26011705) by [noodlerdoodler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler)




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